


New Faces

by blueflowers



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Drama, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Magic, Romance, Secrets, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-05 14:51:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 78
Words: 99,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/724541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueflowers/pseuds/blueflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gaius takes on a second apprentice, visiting royal bullies start terrorizing Camelot in Arthur's absence, and Merlin's secret might not be safe. When do you tell your friends secrets that might get them killed? (Involves rewrite of series 5. May contain spoilers for "Sovereignty".) Complete!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“I’m _fine_ , Elyan,” Leon said irritably as Percival escorted him into the surgery. Gaius looked up from his reading in surprise at the unexpected eruption of four people entering his rooms at once, without even knocking. Percival supported Leon’s arm until he could deposit him in a chair, Elyan still hovering around him in concern. Prince Arthur’s captain was looking a little paler than usual, and distinctly annoyed. Elyan and Percival looked relieved to have finally reached their destination. The fourth figure, an unknown young woman, stood unobtrusively at the edge of the scene.

“Well! And what has happened to you?” Gaius asked, getting up and approaching the group calmly. Leon unconsciously crossed his right hand over the sling that supported his left arm.

“We were attacked by bandits not far from Carmarthen,” Elyan answered. “Poor Leon here took a crossbow bolt in the shoulder. He was losing so much blood—I thought we’d never get him to last until we reached the town. Even then he would have been done for if it hadn’t been for Anna here.” He gestured to the quiet young woman. “We were lucky to run into her at the inn—she took everything in hand immediately. Patched him right up.”

“You’ve been away from Camelot for less than a fortnight,” Gaius observed, helping to remove Leon’s sling and arming jacket—which had obviously recently had a hole torn in the left shoulder and had been mended. “She must be a miracle worker if she can heal a crossbow wound in so little time.”

Percival and Elyan exchanged a glance and Leon looked a little guilty, especially when the removal of his linen shirt revealed a bandage over his shoulder that displayed recent blood-staining.

“She didn’t want us—me—riding so soon,” he admitted gruffly, “but I insisted. We needed to report back to Arthur. Speaking of which?” he said, casting an impatient glance up at Percival. Gaius guessed he was trying to change the subject.

“Alright. C’mon, Elyan,” Percival said, and gave Leon a clap on his good shoulder that nonetheless made the other knight wince. He and Elyan exchanging nods with the young woman, and then Gaius was alone in the surgery with her and his patient.

“Anna, was it?” Gaius said to her as he unwound the bandages. 

“Yes, sir. Anwen of Aberffraw.” She dropped him a respectful little curtsey.

“Well, he has burst your stitches with riding,” Gaius said, fixing Leon with a disapproving eye, “but they seem to have been neat work. Would you bring me a bowl of water from that cistern?” he added, then turned back to Leon. “You repay this young woman’s kindness and care of you by ruining her handiwork?” he said, pulling a spool of silk thread a needle out of the jumble on a nearby table.

Leon gave a small smile at Gaius’s chiding tone. “It was important, Gaius,” he insisted.

“So is your health. Thank you,” he added as Anna put the bowl beside him. Leon winced again as Gaius sponged away the fresh and dried blood from around the reopened wound. “Serves you right if it hurts,” he said, and turned his attention back to Anna. “Whom did you study under?”

“Glynis of Aberffraw.”

“Ah, yes. She has a good reputation. You have finished your apprenticeship, I take it.”

“No. I’m sorry to say Glynis… recently passed away.”

Gaius straightened up momentarily in surprise. “When?” He remembered the outspoken middle-aged woman he had met some years ago. She had been in the prime of life.

“About a month ago.”

“Oh. I am sorry,” he said, and she nodded grimly. “A sudden illness?”

“She had been having heart problems for some time.” He had finished cleaning the wound; she handed him the needle, already threaded, and set the bowl of dirty water out of the way.

“What were you doing in Carmarthen, then?” Gaius reflected, not for the first time, that his age allowed him to ask prying questions that might have seemed rude in a younger person. He was allowed to take a grandfatherly interest in young people’s affairs. “Aren’t you to take over her practice?”

Anna shook her head. “Her son has done so. He—” She stopped and set her teeth for a moment. “He has no intention of fulfilling his mother’s contract with me.”

“And not having finished your apprenticeship, you cannot set up on your own,” he finished for her, setting his last stitches.

“Exactly so. I had hoped…” For the first time she showed a little nervousness. “I’m looking for a healer who is willing to take me on and finish my apprenticeship.” She gave a fleeting and hopeful glance at his face while he cut off the excess thread.

“You know many of the best healers in the surrounding kingdoms, Gaius,” Leon said, rejoining the conversation now that he had finished clenching his teeth. “Maybe you could suggest someone!” He turned to Anna and added, “Gaius’s own apprentice is Prince Arthur’s manservant, Merlin. He’s a good lad—you’ll like him.”

Gaius saw disappointment cross the girl’s face, but she smiled and nodded.

“Yes, I’m sure we can figure something out,” he said, smiling kindly at her. “Now,” he added, fixing Leon with a serious stare. “You will stay here and rest for half an hour, and then I will have a guard help you to your room.” Leon opened his mouth to object, but Gaius pointed at him. “No arguments.” Leon subsided with a chagrinned expression that made him look more like a schoolboy than a knight of Camelot. The small chuckle from Anna as he turned away convinced Gaius that Leon had made a conspiratorial face at her behind his back. And _that_ , he admitted with a wry smile, was the price for being allowed to take a grandfatherly interest.

000

“Not you,” the cook said passionately. “I just caught _him_ sneaking pastries!”

Gwaine grinned guiltily at Percival and Elyan. The cook had him by the back of the collar, about to throw him out of the kitchen.

“Whoa.” Percival held his hands up. “Prince Arthur sent us down here to get something to eat. We’ve been traveling all day.”

“I don’t have anything to spare right now but some stew,” the cook said, narrowing her eyes.

“We’re not picky,” Elyan said.

“I’d take some stew, too!” Gwaine said brightly. 

“NO. You’re leaving.”

“Oh, come on, Cook!” he wheedled. “I haven’t had anything since lunch, and I’ve been training all afternoon. I’m turning into skin and bone!” He plucked at his chainmail as if to demonstrate.

The cook gave him a _look_ , but let go of his collar and went to fetch the stew. Gwaine gave Percival and Elyan an impish grin of triumph and headed toward the rough wooden tables at one end of the kitchen. A young woman with brown hair was already sitting there, with every sign of having enjoyed the show.

“Anna!” Elyan said. “Gwaine, this is Anwen. She basically saved Leon’s life in Carmarthen. Anna, this is Sir Gwaine, one of the best swordsmen in Camelot.”

Anna, who had been taking a bite of stew, tried to smile and dribbled some down her chin. Gwaine pretended not to notice. “Saved Leon’s life?” he said as they joined her at the table. “That sounds like quite a story!”

“Sir Elyan exaggerates,” Anna answered, her face a little pink from the stew mishap. “He and Sir Percival had already mostly stopped the bleeding by the time I saw Sir Leon.”

“But who stitched him up, brought him ‘round, nursed him through a fever, and point-blank refused to let him ride back to Camelot with us without going along herself in case he had a relapse?”

Anna went even pinker and dropped her gaze, but couldn’t repress a smile. Gwaine reflected that although she wasn’t exactly _pretty_ , her face was pleasant.

“Here,” the cook said brusquely, appearing again with a tray and three bowls of stew.

“Anna got bread,” Gwaine pointed out. The cook put her hands on her hips. “I’m wasting away!” he whined. The cook turned and walked away without a word.

“You can have some of mine,” Anna offered, concerned. Gwaine smiled and raised one finger as if to say, “Wait.” In a moment the cook returned with some thick slices of bread on platter, which she plunked down ungraciously in the middle of the table.

“Thank you, Cook!” he sang out sweetly.

“How do you do it, Gwaine?” Elyan said in an undertone as the cook walked away again. “You constantly antagonize her and you _still_ have her wrapped around your little finger!”

“Native tact and charm,” Gwaine answered. The cook, not quite out of earshot yet, snorted.

The three knights dug into their meal, Gwaine as heartily as either of the other two, though he had eaten a sizable luncheon only three hours before. 

“Have you two heard the news?” he added when he came up for air.

“Haven’t had the chance. We’ve been with Arthur almost since we arrived,” Percival answered between bites.

“We’re having guests. Or Arthur is, anyway. Some lord’s younger sons he hasn’t seen for years. Their father owns land along Camelot’s eastern border, and Arthur’s hoping to strengthen bonds between them and Camelot so we have someone guarding us from the east. Agravaine’s idea, I think.”

“When are they coming?” Elyan wanted to know.

“In a couple weeks. Will you still be here?” he asked Anna.

She shook her head. “I don’t know. Gaius is going to help me find someone to finish my apprenticeship with. I’m staying in the servants’ quarters meanwhile.”

“Well, I hope you’ll get to stay till then—if for no other reason than the dancing!” Gwaine smiled cheerfully. “I’m sure there aren’t many chances for dancing in an apprentice’s line of work.”

She smiled. “Not many.”

They finished up their meals and all left the kitchens at once, the knights to their quarters and Anna to explore the upper town. “Delicious as always, Cook!” Gwaine said, putting his arm around her shoulders and planting a kiss on her cheek.

“Oof! Get along with you!” He laughed and fled as she fired a wet dishcloth after him. “You better watch out for that one, Miss,” the cook added to Anna, though she was unable to quite repress a smile. “He’s a terrible flirt.”

“I can see that,” Anna answered, smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anwen: AN-wen, “White; holy" + an, an intensifier.
> 
> I meant to work on “Working Backwards”—I really did. But even after figuring out some of the details of the story, I still couldn’t get any traction. And this story has been looming larger and larger in my mind for the past month. So I finally said “Screw it” and started. Mea culpa. I do hope to get back to “Working Backwards”—and to write that sequel to “Sovereignty.” Eventually.
> 
> Meanwhile, please review—and have pity on me if I don’t update very quickly. I’ve developed a lovely case of carpal tunnel.


	2. Chapter 2

“Don’t forget to check on Sir Leon sometime this morning,” Gaius said as Merlin tied his neckerchief. “And you still have to scrub out the leech tank.”

Merlin groaned. “Come on, Gaius! _Arthur_ will be working me hard enough today!”

“I mean it. Today. You’ve put it off long enough. These chambers are a mess; I’m almost ashamed to have a visitor seeing them. Have you met Anna yet?”

“No, but I was with Arthur and Agravaine when Percival and Elyan reported, so I heard all about her. Do you know yet who you’re going to recommend she try for her apprenticeship?”

“Not yet,” Gaius said shortly, “but I’ve got some ideas. Meanwhile, she’s going to come and observe my work while she’s here.” The sound of maids chattering in the corridor came through the closed door. “Haven’t you got somewhere to be?”

Merlin pulled his boots on and dashed out the door, nearly colliding with Anna as she came in. “Hi! I’m Merlin. Got to go!”

“Nice to meet you, Merlin!” she called back as he disappeared around the corner.

“Sorry about him,” Gaius said as she shut the door, laughing. “I’ve managed teach him medicine, but apparently not manners.”

“That’s alright. He must be very busy, working for you _and_ the prince,” Anna answered.

“Yes. Now, I must warn you, this is about the time for Ger—”

A knock at the door cut him off, and Anna opened it for a well-built, silver-haired man, about sixty-five years old, who came in already complaining. “Gaius, I swear there’s something wrong with my lungs—oh. Who’s this pretty thing?”

“Geraint, this is Anwen of Aberffraw. Anna, Geraint is one of my most… faithful clients.”

“How do you do, Sir,” Anna said, dropping him a curtsey.

“How do. Gaius,” Geraint said, returning to the charge, “I think my elbow’s a little swollen today. And my lungs! I coughed so much last night I’m _sure_ I’ve got consumption.”

Gaius forced himself not to roll his eyes. “How’s your heart?”

“Terrible! Palpitations all the time! Especially when I’m chopping wood.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Oh, that must be awful!” Anna said sympathetically, if a little mendaciously.

“No one knows how I suffer!” Geraint agreed.

“Have you been taking that extract of eagle’s heart I gave you?” Gaius asked.

Anna frowned at him in astonishment, but Geraint didn’t notice.

“Oh—I may have forgotten to take a few doses,” he said guiltily.

“Well, no wonder you’re having heart problems!” Gaius said. “You take a dose as soon as you get home, and the next time you chop wood, your heart will just beat a little harder and faster than usual—perfectly normal. Have you been keeping up with that powdered wyvern tongue I gave you for a sore mouth?”

“Yes, but it didn’t work. I noticed after I had potato stew last night that my mouth was hurting again.”

“Did you blow on your stew before you ate it?”

“Eh?”

Gaius put his hands on the table and leaned over as if he wanted to bang his head on it.

“Dreadful. Just dreadful,” Anna said, coming to his rescue. 

“Anna!” Gaius lifted his head. “What would _you_ prescribe for Geraint’s consumptive cough?”

Anna stood very still for a moment, and then suggested, “Snail tears.”

“Snail tears?” Geraint looked equal parts thrilled and disgusted.

“Yes. The Gauls have used them to great effect,” Anna said positively. “And luckily, I believe I saw some in Gaius’s stores.” She fetched an empty bottle from a cupboard and filled it at the little cistern.

“That’s just water,” Geraint said accusingly.

“We _must_ dilute it,” Anna assured him, wide-eyed. “It’s terribly potent stuff. Now let me see here…” She walked over to the table where Gaius and Merlin had eaten their breakfast that morning, turned her back on them, and did something with the bottle. She turned back and held the bottle up to the light, as if checking the consistency.

“Let me see if you mixed that properly,” Gaius said, and dipping the tip of one finger in the mixture, dropped it on his tongue. It was salt water. “Perfect. Glynis taught you how to mix medicines well.”

Anna smiled, her eyes brimful of secret laughter, and corked the bottle. “Here you are, Geraint,” she said. “Now remember, no more than three drops a day! It should last you a long time.”

Geraint took the bottle reverently, and was so impressed with it that he forgot to say thank you or goodbye. Anna shut the door after him and turned back to Gaius.

“‘Did you blow on your stew before you ate it?’” she quoted, and went off in a peal of laughter.

“He’s not nearly as funny when you have to deal with him every morning,” Gaius said, but he was smiling.

There was another knock at the door, and a peasant woman from the lower town walked in. “And how are you today, Nerys?”

“Oh, I can’t complain,” she said, taking the chair he offered. He introduced Anna as he removed a bandage on her arm, revealing a nasty burn.

“I think that’s looking a little better,” he said. “Anna, what do you think?”

Anna examined Nerys’s arm gently, then suggested, “A poultice of comfrey?”

Gaius smiled. “I have some over here. Let’s see you make the poultice.”

000

Merlin’s stomach growled as he trudged up the stairs toward Gaius’s chambers. Arthur had been particularly demanding since morning, and he had hardly had a moment to himself all day. His arms were sore from polishing Arthur’s armor, he was starving—and he _still_ had that leech tank to clean! He groaned.

“Bad day?” Gaius said, meeting him at the top of the stair. He had come into the castle through a side door. Merlin took Gaius's bag and shortened his long strides to walk beside him.

“Tiring. How about you? Where have you been?”

“I had some house calls to make in the lower town. Rather complicated cases. I left Anna in charge of the surgery most of the day.”

Merlin frowned. “Are you sure she can handle that?”

“Oh, yes. We had a long talk yesterday evening that proved to me she knew what she was doing. Glynis wouldn’t take on a student who wasn’t clever at her work and ready to learn. Very discerning woman, Glynis. And a good teacher. Anna is only a year or two shy of completing her apprenticeship. I’m sure she could treat any minor cases that came up while I was away.” 

Merlin was more dubious. They had reached the door, and Merlin took the handle. “I just hope when she went searching for ingredients she didn’t make a… mess.”

He and Gaius stared around at the sight that met them inside the door. The floor was swept clean, the tables were wiped down, the bottles and jars that had begun to accumulate in odd corners had been returned to shelves and cupboards, and the smell that met Merlin’s nose told him dinner was cooking over the fire. The room looked cleaner and brighter than Gaius had seen it in a long time. Anna was sitting at one of the tables with her chin in her hands, reading one of Gaius’s books. She looked up and smiled. “Good evening, Gaius. Merlin.”

Merlin was still staring, and Gaius gave him a prod so he could get in the door behind him. “You’ve been busy,” he said, looking around.

“Only three people came in all afternoon,” she said, almost apologetically, as she rose and replaced her book on the shelf, “so I had some time on my hands. You don’t mind, do you?”

Gaius chuckled. “Not at all. Won’t you stay and join us for dinner?”

“Thank you, but I promised the maids I’m rooming with that I’d eat with them,” Anna said, dropping a curtsey. “Good night!” 

The door shut behind her.

Merlin dropped onto a stool. “‘Only a couple people came in!’ It’s obvious what she’s doing.”

“Making herself useful?” Gaius suggested, getting out plates for their supper and peeking in the pot at the stew she had put together from their supplies. “Getting this place neater than you’ve ever managed, even with magic?”

“Trying to impress you! Trying to get you to take her on as an apprentice!”

“I’m not sure it isn’t working,” Gaius admitted, gazing at a bowl of fresh bandages she had rolled.

“Gaius!”

“Oh, don’t sound so betrayed, Merlin,” Gaius answered, spooning up some stew into two bowls. “She’s at about the same stage in her education as you are—if not a little farther. I could easily teach both of you. Besides, I’m getting older—I could use some help around here. Some _more_ help,” he added, as Merlin made an indignant noise. “As you pointed out this morning, you are very busy working for Arthur. Anna could take care of some of the chores around here so you wouldn’t have to. And she could do some of my legwork, especially when you’re away from Camelot with Arthur. It’s never a bad thing to have more trained healers in a town, especially one with so many knights and soldiers.”

“Unless they’re bad healers,” Merlin said. Gaius shot him a look, and he changed tacks. “Or they don’t know who’s in charge. What if she starts thinking she knows more than you do, or arguing with your plans for treatment?”

“Then we could deal with that problem when it arises. _If_ it arises. You’re overreacting.” He looked at the young man’s concerned face, and softened. “She won’t be _replacing_ you, Merlin. No one could.”

“I wasn’t worried about that,” Merlin said gruffly, in a tone that made it obvious to Gaius that he had. Gaius turned back to his stew and Merlin picked up Gaius’s bag again, to put it back in its corner. When he reached the place, he stopped and squawked.

“Oh, what is it _now?_ ” Gaius asked. Merlin didn’t answer, so Gaius walked over to see what Merlin was staring at.

In the corner sat the leech tank, clean as the day Gaius had bought it. The glass positively shone in the candlelight. Even the leeches seemed to be squelching around happily.

“I take it all back,” Merlin said quickly, his eyes shining. “Can we keep her?”


	3. Chapter 3

“HOLD!” Leon shouted, springing up from the bench where he sat, watching the training with his arm still in its sling. Percival stepped backward from his dueling partner and clapped his hand to his bleeding arm.

“Sorry, Perce!” Sagramor exclaimed. “I slipped.”

Arthur, who came up to them at the same time Leon did, handed Percival a handkerchief to hold over the cut. “If you’d let the armorer make you some new chainmail, your upper arms would be protected,” he remonstrated.

“A little cut like this doesn’t bother me any,” Percival shrugged.

“Well, let’s have someone take a look at it, anyway,” Leon answered. “Anna!” he called to the figure coming down the colonnade by the training grounds. When she looked up, he waved her over.

Arthur watched her approach. He had hardly seen her since Gaius had brought her to him two weeks before and asked his (nominal) permission to take her on as a second apprentice. Since then he had noticed that Merlin had been even more annoyingly cheerful than usual, which he took be a sign that Anna was a success. Merlin had been whistling—whistling!—while airing out his cupboard the day before, while Arthur had been trying to read an important missive. When Arthur asked him what on earth he was so happy about, Merlin had chirped out some nonsense—something about never having to clean out a leech tank again. Arthur didn’t know, and he didn’t want to know.

Anna curtsied to him and the others. Her bag was slung over her shoulder—she had been doing rounds for Gaius.

“What do you think of this cut?” Arthur asked, indicating Percival. The large man pulled the handkerchief away from the wound and leaned down so she could see.

“It’s a clean cut, but it should be stitched,” she answered in a moment.

“Alright. Up to Gaius you go,” Arthur said cheerfully.

“Or I could do it here,” Anna offered. “If there’s soap and water.”

In a few minutes she was seated next to Percival on a bench, a bowl of water and a bar of soap from beside the pump in the armory between them. She dried off the wound and began to thread her needle. Most of the knights had returned to their practice and Arthur stood nearby, watching them. Some of Anna and Percival’s conversation floated over to him, and he strained his ears to hear.

“Is there a particular reason, Sir Percival, why your chainmail has no sleeves?” Anna asked as she readied her thread.

“I had to cobble my armor together from what I could get in Usk,” Percival explained. “I managed to find some chainmail, but it was too small for me. So I made some adjustments.” He indicated the large rent up the center and the leather buckles that held it closed. “Arthur has recommended I get some new mail, but…” He shrugged with the shoulder she wasn’t working on. “I’m used to this.”

“Hm. Well,” Anna said, pausing in her stitching, to which Percival seemed to be paying no attention, “sewing up a cut in your arm is nothing. But _this_ ”—she stuck her hand into the top of the rent, causing Percival to start—“is your heart. If you get stabbed there, you’ll probably die instantly. Not a big deal,” she continued, “considering _this_ is your stomach… your liver… and your bowels. If you get stabbed here,” she poked her hand in hard, “you are likely to linger for days, in horrific agony, alive when you should by rights be dead, your entrails hanging from your body, begging your friends to be merciful and end your life—and there would be _nothing_ Gaius or any other physician in the world could do to save you, or even to reduce the pain.” She returned to her stitching, and Arthur turned a fraction in order to see Percival’s face: wide-eyed and staring at her. Arthur hid a smile.

“My recommendation, Sir Percival,” Anna said, tying off and cutting her thread with a small knife, “is to order some new chainmail as soon as possible.”

“Good shot, Elyan,” Arthur called. “Right in the gut!”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Percival jump and stare.

“Right! That’s enough for today!” Arthur called, and the men turned toward the armory as Anna packed up her supplies. 

“Where are you going, Perce?” someone called.

“I, uh, have to see someone,” Percival said, turning around and walking backward. “I’ll see you at supper.”

Arthur grinned as he watched him jog off in the direction of the armorer’s. “Good job,” he said to Anna as he passed.

“Thank you, Sire.”

“And I don’t mean the stitches.”

She met his eyes and grinned.

000

Anna was emptying the bowl of water into the grate by the pump when Gwaine came in from the training field. “Hello again,” he said cheerfully. Anna looked up and slopped the water all over her skirt and his boots, nearly dropping the basin the process.

“I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t worry about it!” Gwaine laughed. “These boots have seen far worse than a little shower. I’ve heard you’re working for Gaius now,” he added as she wisely put down the basin. “How’s he treating you?”

“Oh, wonderfully. I’m so thrilled to be working for him.”

“Are you still staying in the castle?”

“Yes, but Prince Arthur has very kindly offered to let me stay in a small house that has fallen vacant in the lower town. I’m moving in a couple of days.”

“Oh, that’s nice. Where is it?”

“A street down from the Rising Sun. It has honeysuckle next to the door.”

Gwaine narrowed his eyes. “Green shutters?”

“That’s the one! You know it?”

“I’ve been past it a few times,” Gwaine answered with a grin. “I know most of the houses around the Rising Sun. I hope you’ll like it,” he added, and left to hang up his chainmail.

He ran into Merlin not long after. “I just saw your new comrade,” he said. “How do you like her so far?”

“She’s taken over so many of my chores that I’d be an ungrateful wretch if I complained! But the fact is I like her a lot. I took her out the other day to show her where the herbs grow in the woods, and we had a great time. Gaius hasn’t been sorry he took her on, either: she’s organizing his stores and his library, and she’s taken over seeing Geraint for him and hasn’t even suggested poisoning him yet, which Gaius says he’s tempted to do on a daily basis.” 

Gwaine laughed. “She seems like a nice girl—if a bit clumsy,” he added. 

Merlin looked confused. “Clumsy?”

Before he could answer, Gwaine’s head shot up at the sound a bell being struck in the direction of the kitchens. It put Merlin in mind of a hunting hound at the signal of a distant horn. “Supper! I’ll see you later, Merlin!” He clapped him on the arm and was gone.

000

The visit of the younger princes of Mora was delayed for a few weeks by business at home. Meanwhile, Anna moved into her new cottage, finished reorganizing Gaius’s surgery, and made fast friends with Merlin.

She managed to be in the courtyard when the princes of Mora and their retinue arrived in Camelot. Arthur and Agravaine, surrounded by the knights, stood on the main steps, and the courtyard was full of other people who had found excuses, like her, to be in the citadel that morning.

The two princes, Bergam and Cranog, had not brought a large retinue: three knights, and only one servant. Arthur greeted them heartily: Anna had heard that they had been friends when Arthur was younger, but hadn’t seen one another in several years.

Arthur was very happy to see them. His memories of them were very pleasant: hunting in the forest under the care of Uther’s master of the hounds, hawking in the fields around Camelot, training with Bergam and Cranog’s older brother on the training grounds in Mora. “I hope your stay in Camelot will be pleasant,” he said as he escorted them into the castle. “Consider our servants your servants. This is Merlin, my manservant,” he added, beckoning Merlin forward. “He’ll see to anything you need.”

“Arthur,” Agravaine called.

“Sorry, I have to go,” Arthur said briefly. “Merlin will show you to your rooms.” He hurried off.

Cranog dropped the satchel he was carrying, and one of the Camelot servants who was following him with a trunk nearly tripped on it.

“Merlin!” Cranog called. “See to that.” 

Bergam chuckled, and hung his own satchel from Merlin’s other shoulder. “And that. Now where’s our room?”

“Second and third doors on the right,” he called, struggling to follow them under the weight of both satchels.

“Come on, keep up!” Bergam called. Merlin and the man carrying the chest exchanged a look. This didn’t bode well.


	4. Chapter 4

Merlin’s impression of the two princes was not improved over the next few days. They made exacting orders of the kitchen and laundry staff, and of Merlin himself. A few days after their arrival, Merlin heard the sounds of a scuffle in Bergam’s rooms. He paused by the door, listening, and heard a cry in what sounded like a woman’s voice. He made a quick decision and opened the door.

“I’m here to pick up your laundry, your highness,” he said cheerfully as he walked into the room. The serving maid whom Bergam had backed into the corner gave a sob of relief and broke out of the prince’s grip, slipping out the door behind Merlin. Bergam frowned direfully at him.

“Can’t you knock?” he growled.

“Sorry, Sir,” Merlin answered, snatching up Bergam’s laundry basket. “I’ll remember to do that next time.” He whisked himself out of the room before the other man could answer.

He caught up with the maid in the kitchen, where she was sniffling in the cook’s large arms.

“Is she alright?”

The cook nodded. “Yes. But I won’t be letting any of the other girls go to that man’s room after this.”

“Don’t worry; I’ll clean it,” Merlin answered. “And I’ll speak to Arthur.”

000

It was easier said than done. “Merlin, you still need to do my laundry and clean in here,” Arthur said as soon as Merlin appeared in his chambers. Merlin opened his mouth. “Bisclavret, get off the bed,” Arthur added. The large wolfdog whined, but jumped down. “Oh, and Bergam has already been past and has complained that his room hasn’t been cleaned yet. I thought you were going to make sure the castle staff saw to that?”

“I am. Sire—”

There was a rap at the door, and Cranog looked in. “Coming hunting this morning?”

“If I can get out from under this mountain of paperwork,” Arthur said, gesturing to the documents on his desk.”

“That’s alright, Cranog,” Bergam said, appearing behind his brother. “He’s just afraid he’s going to lose that wager he made last night. First one to bag a deer, remember? He’s just remembering all the times we beat him in Mora…”

“Alright,” Arthur said, laughing, and threw down his pen. “Very well. I’m coming.” He looked at Merlin, then glanced back. “I’ll meet you at the stables.”

Cranog and Bergam left, and Arthur turned back. “Now. What is it, Merlin? You look like you swallowed a pin.”

“Sire, I—” Now that the time had come, it was difficult to put into words. “I saw Bergam this morning with one of the serving maids.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have been watching.”

“No, I mean—she—she was trying to get away from him,” Merlin said lamely. “He was—pressing his attentions on her.”

Arthur frowned and was silent for a moment. “Was she upset?”

“Very.”

Arthur looked down. “Maybe he just didn’t realize…”

Merlin didn’t answer, but Arthur could read the look on his face.

“I don’t have to tell you, Merlin, that this is an awkward situation,” he said at last. “I will speak to Bergam while we’re hunting today—try to indicate that the staff are not to be… bothered.”

Merlin nodded.

“Meanwhile, get to work on Bergam’s room!” Arthur added, and headed out the door.

000

“Arthur!” Agravaine met the three hunters as they returned to the courtyard that afternoon. “There is a messenger here from Bayard.”

“Excuse me,” Arthur said to Bergam and Cranog, dismounting. Some stablehands came forward to take their horses. “Merlin can take your riding gear to be cleaned.” He headed off with Agravaine.

“Merlin,” Bergam said, greeting him. Merlin met his eye. Bergam’s face was impassive, but stone cold. “I hope my room is clean now.”

“Yes, your highness,” Merlin said quickly, breaking eye contact. Bergam’s expression gave him the shivers.

000

“What’s eating you?” Cranog asked Arthur at dinner. “You’ve barely said a word. Are you still upset that I won the bet?”

Arthur grinned. “No, I’m not a bad loser. But Bayard’s messenger came to consult on a question of the exactly location of the border between Mercia and Camelot.” He sighed. “I really should go to Mercia and meet with Bayard in person to resolve the question.”

“Well, go then,” Bergam said cheerfully.

Arthur frowned. “I’ll probably be gone a week or two, and I don’t want to leave my guests behind.”

Cranog shrugged. “I’m sure your uncle will be an excellent host, and Merlin can show us what you do for fun around here.” He looked up at Merlin, who was refilling his goblet. “Isn’t that right, Merlin?”

Merlin noticed the note of threat in his tone, even if Arthur didn’t. But after a moment he nodded. “Of course, your highness.”

“See?” Cranog said, turning back to Arthur. “Don’t worry about us. We’ll still be here when you get back.”

Arthur smiled and clapped him on the back. “Then Leon and I will leave in the morning—the sooner we go, the sooner we can return. And the rest of my knights will remain, so they can entertain you.” He gestured to Percival, Gwaine and Elyan, who smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Cranog.”

“Business before pleasure,” Bergam said, lifting his goblet with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter. Next one will be longer.   
> Please review!


	5. Chapter 5

Anwen was reading by candlelight when there was a knock at her cottage door. She frowned—it was a little late for visitors, but she marked her place and answered it.

“Sir Gwaine!” she said, feeling a broad smile spread across her face. She tried to quell it. “What can I do for you?”

Gwaine didn’t notice the smile. “Have you seen Merlin?” he asked worriedly. “He took some medicine down to the Rising Sun for the landlord, and he never came back.”

“No, I’m sorry. I haven’t seen him since I left the castle a couple of hours ago,” Anwen answered. “Did you check Arthur’s rooms and the kitchens?”

Gwaine nodded. “I’ve been asking people all over the castle. No one has seen him.”

Anwen frowned. “What is it you’re worried about?”

Gwaine sighed. “I’m not quite sure. It’s just that… Bergam and Cranog and their knights have been picking on him since Arthur left, and… I just have a bad feeling about this. I think I’m going to search the lower town.”

“Hold on. Let me go with you.” Gwaine made no objection, and Anwen wrapped up in her shawl and stuck her candle in a lantern.

Gwaine had already spoken to the landlord at the Rising Sun and had determined that Merlin had delivered the medicine and had left again in the direction of the castle about an hour before. So he and Anwen began searching along the main street that led back to the castle. They checked each alley they came to.

“Maybe he went back to the castle a different way?” Gwaine suggested as Anwen shone her lantern down a narrow alley. “If we don’t find anything this way, we should check the next street over.”

“Wait a minute,” Anwen said, stepping into the alley. “Behind those crates…”

“Merlin!” Gwaine exclaimed.

Merlin lay unconscious on his back. As they knelt next to him and the lantern shone across him they could see that his face was bruised and bloody. Anwen felt the back of his head.

“Go tell Gaius and get a stretcher,” she said briefly, folding up her shawl and placing it under Merlin’s head.

“I don’t want to leave you two here alone—”

“They won’t come back and incriminate themselves: we’ll be fine,” Anwen answered. “Hurry!”

Gwaine was gone on the word. Anwen quickly examined Merlin. The lump on the back of his head was pretty nasty, as was the bruise on his cheekbone. She needed to check for broken ribs. She pulled up his shirt—and froze.

There was a large, purple bruise on his stomach, bigger than her hand. She felt the area: his abdomen was rigid and tight. “Oh God. Merlin,” she whispered. It was internal bleeding, and it was bad. Gwaine would be back soon with the stretcher, but Gaius wouldn’t be able to do anything about this. If it had bled this much in this short a time, Merlin had little time left.

He groaned as she touched the place again. She held very still. “Merlin?” she said, as calmly as she could. “Merlin, can you hear me?”

Merlin groaned again and muttered something unintelligible.

“What was that?” She leaned forward.

He said it again, a little louder, and this time his eyes flew open. They were glowing gold. Anwen gasped and sat back as she felt a zing of fear go through her. Something under her hand was glowing softly in the darkness, and she snatched her hand away, the blood pounding in her ears. The glow faded out, and Merlin’s head fell back as he lost consciousness again. Anwen leaned forward, peered at his stomach, then brought the light closer. The panes of glass began to rattle, and she realized her hand was shaking.

Merlin’s abdomen was no longer bruised. She touched it hesitantly, and the skin was soft and flaccid.

“Merlin, you—” she gasped.

“Anna?” Gwaine’s voice sounded from down the street.

“Here,” she called, and Gwaine and one of the castle guards appeared, carrying a stretcher and breathing hard. They must have run all the way.

Anwen shook herself. “Get his knees,” she told the guard, and crossed Merlin’s arms over his chest. “And his shoulders. Gently now…”

They lifted Merlin onto the stretcher and hurried back to the castle, Anwen leading the way with the lantern. The corridors of the castle were nearly deserted this late in the night, and they were able to make their way to Gaius’s surgery without hindrance.

Gaius was ready for them, water on the boil and herbs already crushed. “Put him there,” he said, indicating one of the beds. “Anna, what injuries did you note?” he asked as they began stripping off his jacket and shirt.

“There’s a lump on the back of his head, and I think there’s something wrong with his right hip.” She hesitated. “Broken ribs, and I thought there was some internal bleeding but… I must have been wrong.”

Gwaine wondered how she could tell. Merlin’s skinny torso, when they laid it bare, was covered in bruises that made him wince just to look at them. “I’ll—wait outside,” he said lamely. The two healers didn’t seem to hear him, and he shut the door quietly behind him.

000

It was an hour later when Anwen finally opened the door again. She looked exhausted.

“How is he?” Gwaine asked from his seat on the top step of the dark staircase.

She shook her head. “It’s hard to tell: he hasn’t come around yet.” She dropped onto the step next to him and rubbed her eyes. “His left wrist is broken, and we think they strained his right hip. Not to mention the broken ribs and the head injury.” She began pulling at the fringe on her shawl. “I just don’t understand. Merlin is just about the sweetest person I’ve ever met. Why would somebody do this to him?”

“I think I know,” Gwaine answered darkly. She looked up at him. “I heard a rumor from one of Arthur’s huntsmen that he had a private talk with Bergam when they went hunting the day before he and Leon left. Something about one of the maids, and I think Merlin told Arthur about it. Bergam and Cranog and their knights weren’t exactly polite to Merlin before that, but afterward I think they got worse. Especially after Arthur left. Percival said Cranog and one of his cronies had Merlin cornered in a quiet corridor yesterday. They backed off immediately when Percival showed up, of course, and he couldn’t get Merlin to say what it was about.”

They sat in silence for a minute, Anwen still pulling at her fringe. “Come on,” Gwaine said at last, climbing to his feet and offering her a hand. “Let me walk you home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so it didn’t turn out to be as long as I thought it would. But at least I updated quickly! :P  
> Please review!


	6. Chapter 6

Despite her exhaustion, Anwen had trouble going to sleep that night, and she awoke before sunrise the next morning. After tossing and turning for awhile, she gave up and got dressed.

The sun was just coming up as she walked up through the town. Everything glistened with dew and glowed in the morning light. Two points of golden light, like two eyes, flashed in Anwen’s face. She cringed and stared. It was two shiny nails on the newly repaired sign above the door of the Rising Sun, flashing as the sign blew slightly in the breeze. Anwen shivered, ducked her head, and kept on doggedly toward the citadel.

Gaius’s surgery was all quiet and still when she opened the door. The morning sunlight was streaming in the window of the main room. Merlin was in the bed in the corner, and Gaius was asleep in the chair next to him.

Anwen crossed the room and touched his shoulder. “Gaius.” He snorted and slowly sat up. “How’s Merlin?”

“He woke up twice in the night,” Gaius whispered back, stretching. “I think his head is going to be alright.”

Anwen nodded. “How about you go sleep in his room? I’ll watch him.”

Gaius nodded and took his time getting up the two steps to Merlin’s door. Anwen closed the shutter of the window nearest Merlin’s bed so that the light wouldn’t wake him, and set to tidying up the room as quietly as possible.

It was a quiet morning, and Anwen was occupied with reading a couple of hours later when there were sounds of stirring from Merlin’s bed.

“Gaius?” he groaned.

“He’s sleeping,” Anwen said, getting up and pouring out a cup of water. “Here.”

Merlin drank it down and then let his head fall back on his pillow.

“How do you feel?”

“My head is killing me, and it hurts when I breathe,” Merlin said faintly. He tried to touch the bandages on his ribs with his left hand and gasped.

“Careful!” Anwen said, taking his other hand. “Your wrist is broken. Bergam and Cranog must really have a grudge against you.”

“Yes,” Merlin answered, then gave her a sharp glance. “I—I mean…”

“It _was_ Bergam and Cranog, then,” Anwen said darkly. “I’m going to talk to Agravaine.”

“Wait!” Merlin grabbed her arm and then groaned at the sharp movement.

“Merlin, just rest.”

“Anna, telling is just going to cause problems.”

“Like what? Getting the two of them kicked out of Camelot for good?”

“Exactly!”

Anwen frowned.

“They’re the sons of the King of Mora,” Merlin said, letting go of her arm. “What do you think is going to happen if Agravaine kicks them out of Camelot? They’ll be offended, their father will be offended… It’s a diplomatic nightmare.”

Anwen sat down again. “But they can’t just go around Camelot, beating people up! Merlin, they—they could have killed you,” she finished lamely.

Merlin grimaced. “I thought they were going to,” he admitted. “But they’ve had their revenge on me now—they’re done beating people up.” He winced and shut his eyes.

“I’ll get you something for the pain,” Anwen said quietly. “Just rest.”

000

Merlin fell asleep soon after, and Anwen had some quick errands to run inside the castle. When she returned she found Gwaine talking with Merlin in a quiet voice.

“Whether you like it or not, Merlin, I’m going to tell Agravaine,” Gwaine was saying in a surprisingly gentle tone. “They need to be stopped.”

“Agravaine will come and ask me himself, and I’ll tell him it wasn’t them.”

“Merlin!” Gwaine sounded exasperated. “Then who are you going to say did it?”

“I don’t know who it was. It was dark.”

“You’re really not going to budge on this, are you?”

“No.”

Anwen put her things down on the table, and Gwaine looked up. “I’m afraid Merlin needs to rest,” she said apologetically.

“Of course.” Gwaine stood up. “I’ll be by to see you tomorrow, Merlin.” He patted his arm. “Get better.”

“I’m trying,” Merlin said with a crooked smile, and closed his eyes.

Gwaine motioned at the door with his head, and Anwen followed him outside.

“How is he, really?” he asked.

Anwen managed a smile. “He’s going to be alright. The fact that he can hold such long conversations today is proof that the head trauma wasn’t too bad. Everything else will heal—eventually.” It wasn’t entirely true: Merlin’s hip was worrying her a little, but she wouldn’t mention that just now.

“Thank you. I’m glad you’re here to help Gaius take care of him.”

“Me too.”

000

She and Gaius set up a system after that: Gaius took care of Merlin during the night, and Anwen during the day. But the improvement in the symptoms from the knock on the head were so great that in a few days it wasn’t necessary to watch him at night anymore. They didn’t want to move him out of the bed they had placed him in the first night, so Gaius set up the screens around it to give him some privacy. Anwen stepped around them first thing every morning to check on him.

“Good morning,” she said, seeing that he was awake. “How are you feeling?”

“Glad to see a pretty face,” he answered, smiling.

“Has Gaius checked your vision recently?” she asked, peering at his eyes. He gave a slight laugh, which turned into a grimace. He put his hands to his ribs. Anwen tried to distract him. “My little sister Lilwen was always considered the beauty of our family.”

“And what were you?”

“Career-minded.”

He grinned. “Well, in any case, you’re prettier than Gaius.”

“I should hope so.”

“I heard that,” Gaius said from the other side of the room.

Anwen laughed. “Would you like your breakfast now?”

“Yes, please.”

000

In the afternoon, a servant knocked on Gaius’s door and announced that a healer was wanted in the armory.

“I’ll go,” Anwen said: Gaius was in the middle of some delicate operations with his crucible. Besides, she had begun taking over most of his “house calls” to save him walking. She grabbed her bag and made her way down to the armory, on the opposite side of the castle.

The armory was dark and silent when she reached it. Only little sunlight came in through the arrow slits.

“Hello?” she called tentatively. Perhaps the servant had gotten the location wrong? Or maybe the patient had gotten tired of waiting and went up to Gaius a different way?

“Hello? Is anyone here?” she called again.

“Why, hello,” a voice said behind her. She jumped and spun around. It took her a moment to identify the speaker in the dark: it was Bergam.

“I hoped that old physician would send you,” Bergam said, stepping toward her. Anwen took a step back. “You’ve got so much… younger legs.” He smiled in a way that made Anwen want to hit him and flee all at the same time.

She tried to be professional. “I understood you needed the services of a healer, Sir,” she said as coldly as possible.

“No, no—just _your_ services,” he answered in a low voice and took a sudden step toward her.

She yelped and dropped her bag, backing quickly out of his reach. She realized that he had backed her into a corner: he was between her and the exit, and there were a number of racks of weapons to dodge around before she could get back into the better-lit and more populous part of the castle. The walls were thick down here; no one would hear her if she screamed.

Bergam was still advancing. Anwen pressed her hands against the wall behind her and prepared herself: her only chance was to take him by surprise and charge him. At least it was just one man…

Just as she thought this, a second dark figure appeared behind him. Anwen sagged against the wall.

“What’s going on here?” the second figure demanded harshly.

“Gwaine!” Anwen exclaimed in relief.


	7. Chapter 7

When Gwaine stepped into the light, he looked angrier than Anna had ever seen him before. His brows were drawn together and his eyes positively blazed with fury. He put his hand on his sword hilt.

Anna suddenly remembered what Merlin had said: any conflict with the two princes of Mora could turn into a diplomatic nightmare. If accusing them of assault was bad, actually assaulting one would be much worse.

Gwaine seemed to have remembered the same thing, because he did not draw his sword or advance any farther, though it seemed to take a massive act of will to stop himself.

Bergam, who had been startled at first, seemed to realize the position Gwaine found himself in, and regained his voice. “The physician sent the girl to me—to look at my wound,” he said, gesturing to a scratch on his arm. His voice, though he tried to use a jaunty inflection, was not as confident as usual.

“The light in here isn’t very good,” Gwaine said between clenched teeth. “You should go up to Gaius’s surgery next time.” He picked up Anwen’s bag and then reached out his hand. “Anna, let me escort you back to the surgery,” he said, his eyes never leaving Bergam’s face.

Anna, unable to speak, took his hand and let him lead her out of the armory and back into the castle. She knew, as they climbed up the stairs and into the corridor outside the kitchens, that she was trembling, and she was dreadfully afraid that she would burst into tears in front of all the housemaids who were running hither and thither. If there was one thing she dreaded it was a scene.

Gwaine seemed to understand her need for immediate distraction. Placing her hand in the crook of his elbow, he began a cheerful monologue on all the funny things Percival and Elyan had said to one another at dinner the night before. The story was light and amusing, and Anna barely heard a word of it. She just concentrated on the sound of his voice and his chuckle—a little forced, perhaps, after his anger in the armory, but a cheerful sound nonetheless—and tried not to think about what had just happened. She was grateful that Gwaine’s story required no response from her; she was certain that if she tried to speak she would start crying. As it was, she felt the tears coming as they reached the top of the last staircase and Gaius’s door.

But Gwaine didn’t stop there. Setting her bag down by the door, he led her down another hallway and up a small flight of stairs, opening a heavy door. Anna found herself on the parapet of the castle, with bright sunlight shining around her and a strong breeze blowing. There was a bench by the wall, and Anna dropped onto it and burst into tears.

In the midst of her outburst, she was again thankful that Gwaine didn’t try to comfort her. He gave her her space, walking several yards away and standing looking out over Camelot through one of the crenels, pretending that she wasn’t embarrassing herself by crying her eyes out.

Eventually the sobs slowed and turned into sniffs, and she pulled a handkerchief out of her sleeve and dabbed at her face.

“Anna—you should see this,” Gwaine said, and she got up and walked over to join him at the crenel.

The whole town of Camelot was spread out below them: little people walking through the marketplace, calling to one another and laughing in the bright sunlight. A patch of brilliant color was a dyer’s stall; a swiftly moving crowd that looked like a flock of birds was a bunch of children playing tag. And out beyond all this, the grain fields that fed the city, and behind them, the forest. The breeze blew the hair back from her face and Anna took a deep breath, feeling as if it were blowing away the terror of the last quarter hour.

“The guards should be on patrol along the base of the wall,” Gwaine said excitedly, laying across the wall so that his head stuck out over its edge. “Yes, there they are!” He looked up at her. “Well? Come on!”

With a chuckle, Anna gave a little hop to get her waist at the edge of the crenel, and leaned forward, lying on her stomach next to him across the top of the wall. Sure enough, down below she could see the top of a guard’s head as he slowly walked back and forth along the bottom of the wall.

“Every time I come up here, I think I should run back down to the kitchen and get some eggs,” Gwaine said, smiling mischievously.

Anna laughed. The hard stone wall beneath her diaphragm made her jiggle when she did so, and it was so funny that she laughed again.

“Watch this!” Gwaine whispered, despite the fact that the guards could not possibly hear them from up there. He pulled a penny out of the pouch at his side and held it out over the edge of the crenel. As the guard came past, Gwaine dropped it so that it fell five inches from the guard’s nose. The man jumped and looked up.

“Look out!” Gwaine said, grabbing Anna’s arm and pulling her back. They hopped down inside the wall, giggling like children.

“I can’t believe you did that!” Anna exclaimed.

“Now it’s your turn,” he answered, pulling out another penny with an even wickeder grin.

“No!”

“Come on! You know you want to!”

Anna bit her lip and looked at him calculatingly. But she couldn’t resist the impish grin that made him look like a young boy, and she grabbed the penny and hoisted herself up again. Gwaine climbed up next to her. 

“Hold it out a couple of inches from the wall,” he coached her, “and drop it; don’t throw. You’ve got to time it just right…”

The guard was coming, and Anna dropped the penny. She was a second too late, however, and the penny hit him in the head, clanging off his helmet.

With a yelp, Anna and Gwaine dropped back inside the wall. Gwaine laughed so hard he fell over, holding his stomach. “You assaulted a soldier of Camelot!” he said as soon as he could catch his breath. “Anna, you _traitor!_ ”

Anwen was laughing so hard the tears were standing in her eyes. Every time they caught each other’s eyes they started laughing again. Eventually they both calmed down, Gwaine giving a last few gasps and Anna wiping at her eyes between giggles.

That’s more like it,” Gwaine said, giving her a smile that softened his eyes and made him look almost like a different creature than he had been in the armory.

Anna was unable to hold his gaze, and pulled herself to her feet. “Are my eyes red?” she asked.

“Only from laughing and standing in the wind,” Gwaine answered, standing up and dusting himself off. “Come on.” He offered her his arm again and she took it.

“Thank you, Sir Gwaine,” she said they stood outside the door to Gaius’s surgery once more.

“Just—promise me something,” Gwaine said, suddenly very serious.

“What?”

“Don’t walk home alone after dark,” he said, fixing her with a stern glance. “If you need to wait until after dark to leave, come down and get me. Even if it’s the middle of the night.”

“Oh, I don’t think—”

“Promise.”

Anna nodded. “Alright.”

Gwaine gave her a small smile, patted her arm, and headed back down the stairs toward his quarters. Anna watched him go, her eyes wistful.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Gwaine did not go back to his chambers after leaving Anna at Gaius’s door. Instead, he went in search of Percival and Elyan. They were both in Elyan’s room talking, and it didn’t take long for him to put them in possession of all the facts. 

They were as appalled and infuriated as he was. “This has to stop,” Elyan said firmly, his eyes blazing. “Merlin catches one of them making advances on a maid, so they attack Merlin and beat him half to death, and then they start making advances on Anna. Who’s next— _Gwen?_ ”

“We have to talk to Agravaine,” Percival declared. “I know you said Merlin wouldn’t testify against them, but _something_ has to be done. Our choices are to incite a diplomatic emergency, or put up with them doing whatever they like to anyone in the citadel that they manage to catch alone. Personally, I’ll take option one.”

“I agree,” Gwaine said. “Let’s find Agravaine.”

Agravaine, who was alone in his study, listened politely and kindly to everything they had to say, and expressed concern over Merlin’s condition and the maids’ nerves.

“But what would you have me do?” he said, spreading his hands in a gesture of helplessness.

“Send them away!” Gwaine said, leaning forward sharply. “Kick them out of Camelot!”

“On what grounds?” Agravaine answered calmly. “You say that when you entered the armory, Anwen and Bergam were talking. Did you actually see him attack her?”

“Thankfully, I stopped him before he could,” Gwaine answered through gritted teeth.

“Then it would be her word against his. And you say that Merlin will not declare who attacked him, and it is only his word that Bergam inconvenienced a castle maid.”

“ _Arthur_ believed him!” Percival exclaimed.

“And dealt with the matter,” Agravaine finished. “Everything else you have told me is purely speculative.”

Gwaine brought his fist down on the table. “Are you calling me a liar?” he practically shouted.

“Not at all, Sir Gwaine.” Agravaine’s tone was still reasonable and polite, and it was like a dash of cold water on a fire. “But I cannot… _kick_ two princes, the sons of one of our allies, out of Camelot without bringing charges against them. And we have here no charge that would stand up, or convince their father, the _King of Mora_ , that we had acted justly in sending them away. I am sorry, gentlemen, but there is nothing we can do.”

Gwaine spun on his heel and marched out of the room, slamming the door open. Percival and Elyan exchanged a look, and bowed respectfully to Agravaine, who looked completely unfazed by Gwaine’s response.

“Nothing he _will_ do, he means,” Gwaine growled when they caught up with him.

“We’ll just have to wait until Arthur comes back,” Elyan said as calmly as possible. “I’m sure _he’ll_ do something about it.”

“I don’t understand how Arthur could have such… _creeps_ for friends,” Percival said as Gwaine continued to fume.

“Well, Gwen tells me Arthur wasn’t always as… amiable as he is now,” Elyan answered. “In fact, I believe the first time he met Merlin, they got into a fight and Arthur beat him up a bit.”

Percival looked like his idols had fallen. “Really?”

“Yes. Obviously his personality has improved over the years, but his old friends’ haven’t.”

Gwaine was still standing with his arms crossed, frowning like a thundercloud. “I don’t care where their depravity came from; I care that it stops. Even if Agravaine won’t do anything, we have to. It’s our job to protect Camelot in Arthur’s absence.”

“Do you mean… scare Bergam and Cranog off?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Elyan said.

“Hopefully it won’t come to that: Arthur should be back in a week or so,” Gwaine answered, apparently beginning to cool down. He uncrossed his arms. “But we can protect the people, meanwhile. We can walk the castle employees home at night if any of them have to go down to the lower town.”

“And we can tell the staff to do their work in pairs when they’re going to be in any isolated part of the castle,” Percival added.

“Let’s go down and talk to Cook.”

000

So it was that the only night Anna had to work late and ask Gwaine to escort her home, they were also accompanied by two other maids and a stablehand who had all decided safety was to be found in numbers. Anna was disappointed—and immediately took herself strongly to task for it. What right had she to be disappointed?

One comfort, she told herself as Gwaine and the last kitchen maid said goodnight at her door, was that Merlin was improving much more swiftly than she would have thought. She would have liked if she and Gaius could have taken credit for it, but she believed the cause of his fast recovery could be found elsewhere—an elsewhere she was trying hard not to think about for now. In a couple of days, Merlin would be well enough to leave his bed. She only hoped he wouldn’t overdo it—he was so energetic, and took so many responsibilities on himself, she was afraid he would try to do too much too soon. Or that Arthur, who seemed to work Merlin like a dog, would _make_ him try to do too much. But Arthur would have to come home first. It was an event the inhabitants of the castle were all beginning to look forward to with fervor.

It finally occurred five days later. Up in Gaius’s chambers in the tower, Anna had had no intimation of Arthur and Leon’s return until the former suddenly burst into the room, barking “MERLIN!” so loudly that she jumped.

Merlin had been sat in the most comfortable chair Gaius owned. His back was to Arthur, and he didn’t even bother turning around, his pale, bruised face growing hard as he heard the anger in Arthur’s voice. Anna quickly made herself scarce.

“I’m away for a _fortnight_ , and I come back to find my chambers a mess, my bed unmade, and my guests complaining of lack of service!” Arthur ticked the charges off on his fingers. His diplomatic mission to Mercia had been tiring and occasionally infuriating, he hadn’t managed to get everything he wanted out of the negotiations, and he was tired and—though he wouldn’t admit it—sore from the journey. He was also hungry, which made his temper sharper than usual. And coming back to a pigsty of a room when all he wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep for a week had been the final straw. He let fly. “I told you to take care of our guests, the PRINCES OF MORA, and when I get back I find that they haven’t seen you in more than a week! What have you been doing, lazing around the tavern? Making trysts in the woods with some pretty girl from the lower town? I should have you thrown in the stocks!” He glared at Merlin’s unmoving form. “Get up and look at me when I’m talking to you!”

Merlin reached a hand out of the blanket that Arthur only then noticed had been wrapped around his shoulders, and grabbed a cane that had been hidden beside the leg of the chair. Slowly and gingerly, he got to his feet, wincing as he turned to face Arthur. His face was covered in old bruises, the skin between looking even whiter than usual against the dark circles under his eyes. He wasn’t wearing his usual neckerchief, and more bruises were visible over the neckline of his shirt. His left arm was in a sling, and his right ankle, bootless, was wrapped in bandages. But worse than all of these was the expression in his eyes when he looked up—a combination of hurt, anger, and underneath, a determination not to show just how much pain he was in.

Arthur was struck dumb in a moment and felt himself blanch white at that look. Then Merlin wavered on his feet, and Arthur found himself across the room, supporting Merlin’s weight, trying not to hurt him as he lowered him anxiously back into the chair, scolding again, but this time in a different tone. “Careful!”

Merlin closed his eyes with an expression of pain, trying to calm his breathing, his good hand to his ribs, which Arthur assumed were injured from the whimper Merlin had made when Arthur touched him. He sat down on the edge of the table and stared, waiting until Merlin opened his eyes again with some semblance of calmness.

“ _God_ , Merlin,” he said quietly, “what _happened?_ ” And a moment later, his tone harsher as he realized the import of the injuries, “… _Who did this to you?_ ”

Merlin looked away, swallowing hard. 

“Merlin,” Arthur said again: “tell me.”

“I would… prefer not to make accusations that could cause trouble for Camelot,” Merlin said, his words quiet and clipped. He glanced back up at Arthur fleetingly, and looked away again.

Arthur swallowed hard as he realized the truth. Straightening up, he paced back and forth across the room a couple of times.

“And I brought them here!” he said furiously through clenched teeth, almost to himself. “ _Don’t_ come back to work until you’re healed,” he added to Merlin, his tone angrier than he meant—but he knew Merlin understood that he wasn’t angry with _him_. “I don’t want to see you lifting a _finger_ until Gaius says you’re well.” Merlin nodded, and Arthur took a deep breath. “And I’ll take care of this,” he said finally, his face grim, and stalked out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Goodness,_ lots of capslock, italics and exclamation points in this chapter…  
>  Please review!


	9. Chapter 9

No one but Gwen ever found out for sure what Arthur said that got Bergam and Cranog out of Camelot so fast. Even when talking to Elyan, she stuck to the official version: that Arthur had told them that the negotiations with Mercia were going to entail quite a bit of work for him and that he could not properly entertain guests at this time. Everyone was pretty sure that the two princes wouldn’t have left with so much haste if that had been all, but when asked, Arthur put on his blandest smile and said that they had become bored and were happy to return home to Mora. Whatever it was he had said, he seemed to have no fears that there would be a diplomatic backlash from their father. Merlin’s private theory was that Arthur knew about some secret of theirs from when they had actually been friends, and had threatened to tell their father about it. He also rather hoped that Arthur had threatened physical violence. It made the whole thing that much more satisfactory.

Arthur had been uncharacteristically gentle toward him since his return. When Merlin was back on his feet and moving around the castle again, Arthur would stop and ask him how he was every time he saw him, reminding him occasionally not to come back to work until he was completely healed. He was consistently kind; not a single negative remark on Merlin’s lack of intelligence fell from his lips.

It was actually starting to get on Merlin’s nerves. He was determined to do something egregiously wrong his first day back on the job, just to irritate Arthur into insulting him.

Meanwhile, he had another person’s behavior to worry him: Anna. She had been very friendly and caring through his recuperation, but now that he was well on his way to health again, she seemed… distant. She didn’t talk much to him, and when she did she seemed strangely nervous and distracted. She didn’t make as many jokes, either.

“Anna, is something the matter?” he asked one morning as she was tidying up the surgery.

She dropped a glass bottle of expectorant on the floor. “Nothing,” she said quickly, picking up the pieces.

“You’re only clumsy when you’re nervous,” Merlin said, hobbling over on his crutch and handing her a cleaning rag. “What’s wrong?”

She looked up at him with an expression that was almost fearful. “I—”

“Good morning, Anna,” Gaius said, coming in. “Oh, careful with that sharp glass!”

Anna shot him a quick smile as he passed and went into the storeroom. 

“We have to talk,” she said quietly to Merlin when the door was shut behind him. “Can you meet me at two, on the parapet?”

Merlin only had time to nod before Gaius came back in. But the look on Anna’s face worried him.

000

She was already on the parapet, sitting on a bench as Merlin opened the heavy door that afternoon. He was getting around alright these days on his crutch, but he was a little out of breath from the stairs. He dropped onto the bench next to her, but Anna didn’t even look up.

“The night you were attacked,” she began abruptly, still not looking at him—“how much do you remember?”

He looked at her averted face worriedly. “Not much,” he admitted. “After they knocked me out—I have some confused impressions of motion, a moment of warmth, and then the next thing I knew I was waking up in the surgery.” He frowned. “Why—what happened?”

Anna took a deep breath. “When Gwaine and I found you, you were unconscious. He went to get a stretcher, and I stayed with you. I gave you a quick examination, and you—had internal bleeding.”

Merlin stared at her.

“I’m sure of it,” she continued. “It was—bad. Not something you could survive. But then you seemed to be regaining consciousness. You muttered something—nonsensical. I thought you were delirious, but then your eyes half-opened and… they were glowing gold. There was a light, and…” She took a deep breath. “Your internal bleeding was just—gone. It was fine, there was no mark to show it had ever been there.” She still wasn’t looking at him. “Merlin, tell me the truth,” she said quietly. “Do you have magic?”

Merlin closed his eyes. “Yes,” he answered softly.

Anna’s shoulders slumped. “Oh my God,” she muttered, then sprang to her feet. “Merlin, how _could_ you?” she exclaimed angrily. “You, of all people! The prince’s personal servant! Do you _want_ to be hanged?”

“Do you think I don’t know it’s dangerous?” he snapped. “It’s not something I can _help_ , Anna. It’s just who I am.” She was standing with her back to him, her arms wrapped around herself as if she were cold. Merlin stared angrily at her back. “I have sacrificed, and kept secrets, and had to make awful decisions _by myself_ —you think I would choose this?” She still didn’t move. “You know what? Just forget it. Forget you ever saw anything.” He got clumsily to his feet and headed toward the door.

“Merlin, wait,” Anna said, in a different tone of voice. “Please.” She ran up and stood between him and the door. “I’m—I’m sorry.” She was looking in his face at last, and he could see that her own was white. “I’m _glad_ you have magic,” she said haltingly. “If you didn’t, you’d be dead by now. I just—” she dropped her glance again. “I’m afraid. And it made me angry. And I still—I don’t understand. This is beyond my experience and—it’s kind of terrifying. Knowing that you could be caught and killed at any time, knowing that I could lose you, knowing that I could be arrested as an accessory—it’s a lot to take in.” She looked up at him again. “Just—please be patient with me. I _want_ to understand.”

Merlin reached his free arm out and gave her a small hug. “Thank you,” he said.

She gave him a thin smile. “So is this why you’re healing so much faster than you should and why that hip injury hasn’t crippled you for life?” she asked as they headed back into the castle.

“Probably,” Merlin said, a little startled. Gaius hadn’t mentioned anything about how bad his hip was. “I have a lot of magic, so I heal quickly.”

“And does anybody else know?”

“Gaius—”

“Oh, good,” Anna said, relieved.

“My mother. Lancelot knew.” Anna nodded; she had heard about the brave knight who had sacrificed himself for the kingdom. “There have been a couple of others, but none of them are in Uther’s kingdom.”

“So Gwaine doesn’t know,” she clarified.

“No.” He dropped his gaze. “I wish I could tell him—I wish I could tell _Arthur_. But it’s out of the question.”

They were silent for a long moment, pacing down the corridor together. “Come on,” he said at last. “Let’s tell Gaius there’s someone else in on the secret.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One mini-arc finished, but the fic is only just begun!


	10. Chapter 10

“Hello, Anna,” a voice said. 

Anna turned and squinted into the darkness as two figures approached. “Sir Leon! And Sir Gwaine. Good evening.”

“Good evening. Heading home?”

“Yep—need to be back in the surgery first thing tomorrow. I’m sure Geraint thinks he’s coming down with something again.”

Leon laughed. “Then you’ll definitely need your sleep to have the patience to deal with him.”

“I’m going to head on down,” Gwaine said to Leon, and left with a smile to Anna. She smiled back, a little wistfully.

“He’s annoyed that he’s missing the feast,” Leon said a little apologetically as soon as Gwaine was out of earshot. “We drew lots to see who would be on duty in the lower town tonight, and Elyan, Gwaine and I were all chosen. Percival’s the only one who got out of it. I think Gwaine was hoping to have a dance with Lady Marged.”

“Ah, yes.” Anna remembered Lady Marged—a stunning blonde. Gwaine had been attached to her side the whole way through the last feast. “Well, at least he got to dance with her when Princess Mithian was here. I believe you ended up on duty that night.”

“Yes.” Leon looked rueful. “I don’t seem to have very good luck, do I?”

“Well, perhaps it will be better next time,” Anna offered. “Good night!”

“Good night.”

Anna had intended to have supper and go straight to bed when she got home—it had been a long day. But she kept catching herself staring into the candle flame, her spoon frozen halfway to her mouth, imagining being a high-born lady at a feast. She could sit at a higher table, near the knights, rather than down at the lowest one. She could chat with anyone she wanted without looking presumptuous, and if one of the knights smiled at her, she could maybe believe they meant more than just to be kind.

Anna shook herself. She was being ridiculous—as usual. She sighed and ate another bite of stew.

“FIRE!”

She ran to her door. There was shouting a couple of streets away, and people were beginning to stream out the houses around her with buckets. Anna caught up the two next to her firepit and ran for the nearest well.

When she got down near the gate, all the houses in the street were already half burned. Leon was nearby, directing where to throw the water to keep the fire from spreading. “Anna!” he shouted. “There are some wounded over there!”

Anna passed off her buckets to someone else and ran to take a look at the injuries. They were mostly minor burns, and a little smoke inhalation.

“She’s going to be just fine,” she reassured the mother of a crying child.

“WE’RE UNDER ATTACK!” Leon bellowed. Anna looked up to see soldiers in black streaming in the gate of the lower town. Elyan and Gwaine flew past her, heading in the direction of the castle. “EVERYONE BACK!”

“Come on!” Anna shouted over the voices of screaming children. “Back up to the next street! Let the knights through!”

The alarm bells began to ring. Soldiers in Camelot scarlet were racing toward the invaders while the people of the town huddled out of the way.

“Geraint!” Anna shouted. The old man had found a sword somewhere and was running toward the fight.

“Don’t you worry, sweetheart!” he shouted back and was lost in the crowd.

Even over the shouts and screams, Anna could hear Leon’s voice. “GET THE PEOPLE TO THE WOODS! RETREAT!”

“Come on, everyone! Follow me!” Anna shouted as loud as she could, grabbing people’s arms, hauling them to their feet. There was another gate a few streets away. If the invaders were heading toward the citadel, their most likely goal, then the townspeople could get out and into the forest. She snatched up a burning torch. “THIS WAY! FOLLOW ME!” She waved the torch in the air and ran toward the gate, a crowd of townspeople at her heels.

She had been all over the woods nearest Camelot, searching for herbs. She could find her way in the dark—which was helpful, as dark was exactly the word for it. Even with the few torches people had snatched up as they ran, the woods were dark as pitch. Most of the screaming had stopped; it was replaced with rustling, thumping, swearing, and people trying to calm crying children.

Anna soon lost track of time, but it was an hour or two later when she heard a voice call her name.

She turned. “Sir Leon!”

The whole group stopped. “How many did you get out?” Leon asked, catching up with her.

“I don’t know. I think we’re a little spread out. I can see some torches over that way, and I don’t think that’s the enemy.”

“Let’s get everyone together, and we’ll head east. The Southrons don’t seem to be following us.”

It took some time for the soldiers and Anna to get all the townspeople organized, and even longer to get them all a safe distance from Camelot. It was no joke herding a group of terrified and exhausted men, women and children through a forest. It was after sunrise by the time Leon called a halt and they began to set up a makeshift camp. Fires weren’t hard, as they had the torches, but shelter and food were another question.

“We’ve got to find a village or something,” one of the knights said. “We have to find something to feed these people. And some decent blankets—for make-shift tents, if nothing else.”

“What village is going to want to feed a bunch of refugees?” Sir Sagramor answered.

“We can find some edible wild plants,” Anna suggested.

“We can’t stay here,” Leon said suddenly. “We’re too close to Camelot still. We need to hide somewhere the Southrons won’t think to look for us.”

“What did you have in mind?” Sagramor asked.

“The Forest of Ascetir. We’ll stay here and let the people sleep. Later in the day we move farther east and get to the forest.”

One of the youngest knights, Sir Bors, raised a hand. “What’s that?”

They were all silent for a moment, listening. Someone was coming through the underbrush. The soldiers drew their swords as a figure stepped out into the light.

“Careful, boys,” the man said cheerfully. “This is the only chainmail I’ve got.”

“Percival!” Leon stepped forward and clasped his forearm. Then he frowned. “You were in the citadel.”

Percival nodded grimly. “We couldn’t hold it.”

“And the King?” Leon asked quickly.

“Escaped. With Merlin and Elyan. We got caught by Morgana and I was separated from them.”

“Morgana?”

Percival nodded. “She’s leading them.”

“Gwaine?”

“Stayed behind with Gaius to cover our escape.”

Anna bit her lip.

“How many do you have here?”

“A few hundred soldiers, and about half as many townspeople,” Leon answered. He turned and saw the expression on Anna’s face. “Why don’t you get some sleep,” he said kindly. “We’ll set up patrols.”

Anna nodded and moved toward the center of the camp, where the townspeople were trying to get comfortable around some small campfires.

“Anna, over here,” a girl called. It was Sifa, one of the maids. Anna walked over.

“You were down by the fires,” she said. Sifa nodded. “Did you see Geraint?”

Sifa looked at her sadly. “I’m sorry, Anna.”

“You don’t mean—”

“Geraint’s dead.”

It was the final straw. Anna sank down next to Sifa and burst into tears.


	11. Chapter 11

A hand touched her shoulder. “Anna? Time to get up,” a voice said.

“Mm?” Anna opened her eyes to see Sir Sagramor kneeling over her. “We need to get the people moving. Leon says there’s a village not far from here; we’re going to get the people there and try to find some food.”

“What we need is some blankets,” Anna answered blearily as she sat up and shook Sifa’s shoulder. “I’m wet through.”

It was only early afternoon, but it had begun to drizzle. Luckily it was a pretty warm May day, but if it rained on them overnight, they were going to have illness on their hands.

The townspeople and the soldiers all looked pretty draggled when they reached the village. Anna could hear the livestock grunting and lowing, and expected to see the people out in the fields, sowing their summer crops. But the place was eerily silent of human noises.

It was soon obvious why. They reached the first of the bodies on the outskirts of the town. It seemed that most of them had been rounded up and killed together, but a few had tried to run and had been shot down. Some of the soldiers who had gone on ahead returned to report that there were no survivors still in the village; that the Southrons hadn’t bothered to steal any of the food or supplies in the village: they hadn’t stopped to do anything but kill.

Leon organized the soldiers into companies: some would bury the dead, some would gather supplies, and the rest would guard the village perimeter. Meanwhile, Bors and another knight would help Sifa and Anna to gather bandages and other supplies for a makeshift medical kit.

Anna set up in one of the larges houses and set Sifa and the two knights to washing and binding wounds. By the time she had finished it was nightfall, the dead had been buried in one large trench, and the houses had been stuffed with refugees and soldiers.

Leon, Percival, and the other few knights who were with them met in the large house as Anna and Sifa were cleaning things up.

“We can stay here one night and move on to Ascetir in the morning,” Leon decided. “Sagramor, how much do we have by way of supplies?”

“We have enough blankets if everyone shares, and enough food to last us a couple of weeks.”

“Percival, what are the scouts saying about the citadel?”

Percival shook his head, looking grim. “We’re outnumbered three to one. We can’t take them on.”

“We can’t give up hope,” Leon said. “Merlin is wily; I’m sure he and Arthur are safe somewhere.”

Percival snapped his fingers. “Ealdor!” Leon frowned at him in confusion. “That’s the village Merlin’s from. It’s just over the border, in Lot’s kingdom. Perhaps they’ve gone there?”

“We can’t be sure—and anyway, it’s too far to take all these people. We’d be too slow and too obvious.” Leon shook his head. “No, if Arthur is coming back to meet us, he’ll look for us in the Forest of Ascetir. Anna, is everyone fit to travel?”

Anna nodded. “We’ve been lucky that the injuries from the battle were so few.”

Leon looked grim. “It wasn’t luck: those who weren’t well enough to travel weren’t well enough to escape the city. Sagramor, make sure that the supplies are gathered and ready to go. Let’s set up the night watches and get some sleep. I’m sure Arthur will meet us in the Forest of Ascetir soon.”

000

Despite Leon’s avowed optimism, there was no sign of Arthur or Merlin day after day. The refugees created makeshift shelters in the forest and established a routine, punctuated occasionally by the return of scouts with news of goings-on at the citadel. They could only observe from a distance, so there was no way for them to discover what had become of Elyan, Gaius or Gwaine.

Anna tried to keep her mind off of her worries for her friends by staying busy. She and Sifa helped Sagramor to make sure everyone was receiving the supplies they needed, and ended up acting as spokespeople, facilitating communication between the refugees and the knights. The rest of the time she spent calming fears and reassuring people. The continued absence of Arthur was making them nervous; she began to hear quiet talk about what they should do if he didn’t return.

“He _will_ ,” she found herself saying repeatedly. “He’ll come to us when it’s safe. He is the true King of Camelot; he won’t abandon his people.” She didn’t allow herself to wonder if she was right.

Four nights after they left the village, Anna was woken from sleep by the sound of hushed but excited voices.

Anna glanced around. The sound was coming from the direction of Leon and Percival’s campfire. Sifa, with whom she shared a blanket, was still asleep. Slowly and gently, Anna slipped out from under the blanket and walked in the direction of Leon’s fire. There were a few men standing around it—and one of them wasn’t a knight.

“Merlin!” she exclaimed, almost forgetting to whisper, and ran over to him, throwing her arms around his neck.

“Anna!” He hugged her back with a big smile.

Anna looked up to realize that she had interrupted an important conversation. She felt herself blush. “Sorry,” she said quickly, and stepped back.

Leon was smiling. “It’s alright. Merlin has just been telling us some good news.”

“Arthur’s coming!”

“Yes.” Merlin was smiling. “Arthur, and Gwen, and two more good fighters—their names are Tristan and Isolde. They’ll be helpful when we take back the citadel.”

“You’re sure we can do it?”

“If Arthur says we can, would you follow him?”

A smile spread across Leon’s face. “Yes. Every man here would.”

“There’s just one thing he has to do first. He needs a sword.”

“Well, we have—”

“No. A special sword. He’s going to retrieve it tomorrow, and I want representatives from the townspeople, the soldiers, and the knights to see him do so.”

000

Anna and Sifa were among those who left the camp as the sun was rising the next morning and followed Leon and Percival to the place Merlin had directed them to. Sure enough, there was a sword, gleaming silver and gold, in a shaft of golden light. And beyond it—Arthur.

He looked up in surprise as they came forward, stood respectfully silent. He turned to speak with Merlin.

“He looks nervous,” Sifa whispered, wrapping her hand nervously around Anna’s arm. “Do you think he can’t pull it out?”

“Do _you?_ ”

Sifa smiled, much as Leon had the night before. “He’ll do it,” she said, and turned her eyes back to her king.

Arthur stalked forward, wrapped his hands around the hilt, and pulled. His arms shook with the effort. The refugees waited in breathless silence. Finally Arthur stopped, stepped backward, wrapped one hand about the hilt, closed his eyes, and in one smooth motion pulled the sword from the stone as smoothly as a knife from butter.

Sifa gave a gasp and squeezed Anna’s arm. “LONG LIVE THE KING!” Leon shouted, and Anna was shouting along with him, along with them all.

000

All the able-bodied men and women who were capable of fighting and were not needed to watch the children took up the makeshift weapons Sagramor had gathered in the village. Anna took up a pitchfork—but Leon took it out of her hands.

“No matter what happens in the battle today, we will need you,” he told her. “A healer is more valuable to us safe in the forest than dead or injured from fighting in the city.”

So Anna and Sifa, who was good with children, were stuck waiting again as the attack commenced on the castle. Anna strained her ears for what seemed like an eternity to hear any noise of battle. Then when she did, and the alarm bell was rung, it seemed like an eternity again.

“Won’t they _ever_ finish?” Sifa asked, half under her breath.

“It will take some time,” Bors answered. He had been assigned to remain in the forest and guard them. “See?” He pointed to the one gate of the town that was visible from their vantage point. “Some of the Southrons are fleeing!”

At long last, Anna spotted a flash of crimson on the top of the highest tower. A soldier of Camelot was waving the flag.

“The signal! We’ve won!” Anna and Sifa hugged each other, and Sir Bors, and the children.

“Go on—you’ll be needed!” Bors said, and Anna took off for the town at a run.


	12. Chapter 12

The wounded were already gathering in the Great Hall when Anna arrived. She took a quick survey of the injuries and ran up to Gaius’s surgery to gather supplies.

Merlin was already there, leaning over Gaius, who appeared to be asleep.

“Is he alright?” Anna asked, putting her hand on Merlin’s shoulder.

He jumped—he hadn’t even heard he come in. “I think he’ll be alright,” he answered, but he sounded worried. “Morgana didn’t feed him—or Gwaine and Elyan—hardly anything for a week. He’s dehydrated. But he’ll be alright,” he repeated nervously.

Anna was gathering up supplies and sticking them in baskets. He blinked at her as if he hadn’t noticed before what she was doing. “Oh—do you need help?”

“I’ve got it,” she answered, patting him on the arm. “You stay here and take care of Gaius. Where are Gwaine and Elyan?”

“Percival and Leon are taking care of them,” Merlin said.

Anna nodded. “I’ll see you later,” she said, giving him a peck on the cheek. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

The Great Hall had grown even more chaotic when she returned to it. Sagramor and Bors had just come in and were staring around in bewilderment.

“Sir Sagramor, Sir Bors, I need you to set up a triage,” Anna said in a commanding tone, laying out her supplies on one of the tables. “Organize the wounded according to the severity of their injuries. And we’re going to need cots.”

Gwen arrived to help, and soon they had a system in place and had filled one end of the room with cots. The wounded eventually stopped coming in, Gwen and Anna caught up with the demand for help, and finally Anna straightened up, looked around, and discovered that there were no more immediate demands on her. The wounded were either stabilized or being nursed by others. She rubbed her back, suddenly realizing it was sore, and looked up at the windows. It was dark out.

“What time is it?” she groaned.

“Late.” Percival walked over. “You should go get some rest.”

She looked around, as if making sure she could really go. “What about Gwaine and Elyan? I understand they were fed almost nothing the whole time they were held captive?”

“Yes. And Morgana made Gwaine fight her men for the few pieces of bread they did get.”

Anna grimaced and sucked the air in between her teeth. “How is he?”

“Tired. Leon took him up to his room. Elyan too—I think they’re alright.” He put a hand on her arm. “You need sleep. Go to bed now; they’ll send for you if they need you.”

000

Anna checked on her patients in the Great Hall first thing the next morning. She dealt with a few problems that had cropped up overnight, checked on the recovery of some others, then headed down to the kitchens.

“Oh, Sir Elyan! You’re up!”

He smiled up at her from a seat at the table in the corner where they had eaten her first day in Camelot. “Awake but not very energetic,” he admitted. “Cook’s making me some breakfast.”

“Don’t overeat,” she warned him. “Only about half of what you’d usually eat.” He nodded. “Sir Gwaine not with you? I’m surprised to see him not begging food in the kitchen.”

Elyan laughed. “Haven’t seen him since yesterday.”

“Did he have something to eat then?”

“Oh, yeah. A lot. The thought of food almost turned my stomach, but he’s a good trencherman. And he’d worked up an appetite—all that fighting, you know.”

Anna frowned. “Yes. I heard.”

“Here you are, Duckling,” Cook said, setting a bowl of stew in front of Elyan. “Ah, Miss Anna. Can I get you something?”

“Could I have a bowl of that stew?” she asked. “And a pitcher of water.”

“Certainly.” Cook walked away

_Duckling?_ Anna mouthed at Elyan.

He grinned sheepishly. “It seems the affecting story of us going without food for a week has awakened all of Cook’s maternal instincts. No matter how much she complains when Gwaine and Percival sneak food from her kitchens, she can’t stand the thought of any of us going hungry.”

“Well, then she’ll be glad to know that this stew is going up to Sir Gwaine,” Anna said as Cook came back with a tray.

“You tell that young rascal to come down here himself and he’ll get a good, hot meal,” Cook said warmly, handing it to her.

Anna smiled. “I’m sure he’ll be under your feet again in no time.”

000 

There was no answer when Anna tapped quietly on Gwaine’s door. Cautiously she pushed it open and peeked inside. He was lying on his side in bed with his back to her.

She quietly set the tray down on the table and walked around the bed. “Sir Gwaine?” she said quietly. He didn’t move. “Gwaine?” She touched his shoulder. No change. Anna held her hand under his nose and pressed two fingers to his throat: his breathing and heartbeat were normal.

Percival had said Gwaine had had to fight, and he had been fed a starvation diet for almost a week. He was probably exhausted. She pulled a small silver vial from her pocket, unclasped the top, and held it under Gwaine’s nose.

He inhaled sharply and opened his eyes, blinking up at her as she closed the bottle and put it back in her pocket. “Mmm,” he groaned, rolling onto his back. “I thought you were supposed to wake the handsome prince with a kiss.”

“Well, I considered it,” Anna answered with a smile, “but…” She looked him over dispassionately. “…You look like hell.”

Gwaine chuckled, then winced. “Ooh. I _feel_ like hell,” he slurred.

“You need to eat something.” She picked up some throw pillows from the floor and piled them against the headboard. “I’ve brought some breakfast from the kitchen.” She walked around the bed for the stew, and when she turned back, discovered him struggling to push himself up. He lay back at last, his arms shaking, and closed his eyes with a ragged breath.

“Here.” Anna wrapped her arms around him and pulled him up, leaning him against the pillows. “Don’t overexert yourself—you’ve had a rough week.”

He smiled weakly, his eyes half-shut. “Don’t I know it.”

She poured him out a cup of water. “Here. You need lots of water to replace the fluids you’ve lost.”

He took the cup with a shaking hand, raised it to his lips—and it slipped out of his fingers. Water went everywhere.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as Anna grabbed a towel from the washstand and sopped it up.

“It’s alright. Here.” She poured out another cup and held it to his lips. He drank, his eyes almost shut. “No falling asleep on me, now,” she added, spooning up some stew and feeding it to him. “You need to get something in your stomach.”

“Ate plenty last night,” he murmured.

“Yes. Elyan told me. Was it a big meal?”

He nodded between bites. “Didn’t feel so well after.”

“That’s not surprising. You shouldn’t eat too much too fast after you’ve been without much food for several days. It can make you sick.”

“Think I might be,” he slurred.

Anna frowned. “I think so, too.”


	13. Chapter 13

When Anna returned to the Great Hall, she found Merlin talking with Gwen. Sifa was a short distance away, changing a patient’s bandage.

“Merlin!” Anna gave him a hug. “How is Gaius?”

“Better.” Merlin looked more confident about his assertions this morning. “He’s resting, so I thought I’d come down and see if I could help.”

“I told him it’s been pretty quiet this morning,” Gwen added. “Sifa and I have been handling things.” Anna noticed that Gwen was wearing her blue dress. It was one of the things she had left behind her when she went to Ealdor—Merlin and she had tidied up Gwen’s house after she left, and Anna remembered folding all of Gwen’s dresses, wondering if she would ever return to reclaim them. It seemed she had.

“I was about to head upstairs and help the maids tidy the main bedchambers—if you don’t need me here?”

“No, I think we’re fine,” Anna said. “I’ll see you later.”

Gwen gave Merlin a smile and touched his arm, and then was gone.

“Sifa has been a great help,” Anna said as she and Merlin turned back to do the rounds in the Hall. “She’s very gentle, and she handles responsibility well.”

Merlin nodded. “She said you were checking on Elyan and Gwaine? How are they?”

“Elyan seems alright. But I’m a little worried about Gwaine—he seems pretty lethargic. It might just be exhaustion from being made to fight on so little food, but it might also be that he tried to eat too much too soon.” She began gathering up some soiled bandages. “Glynis told me she once treated some people who had gone without food for a week. She said some of them tried to eat too much, and they had heart problems.”

“What—really?”

“Yes. And she said a couple of them didn’t make it. But that may not be what he has,” she added quickly. “I’ll check on him in a couple of hours.”

000

Gwaine had fallen asleep almost immediately after Anna laid him back down, and when he awoke some time later, she was gone. He felt a little stronger—the stew must have done him good. Gwaine pushed himself up into a sitting position.

The room spun around him. Gwaine shut his eyes. When he had regained some equilibrium, he realized he could hear sounds outside his door—shouting, clanging. Morgana’s troops! They were in the castle! 

Gwaine threw back the covers. He had to warn everyone—get them out. He stood up unsteadily, and the room spun again. Gwaine hung onto the bedside table. No matter what it cost him, he had to warn them, had to raise the alarm. He took a few unsteady steps toward the door, his heart racing.

The room began rocking like a ship at sea. First one side of the floor came up toward him, then the other. Finally the floor rushed up toward his face, and the room went black, the sounds of battle turning into a roar.

000

Anna met Percival in the corridor when she returned to Gwaine’s chambers.

“I was just going to see him,” Percival said, gesturing toward Gwaine’s door. “This is the first time I’ve been able to get away all day.”

“He might be asleep,” Anna cautioned him quietly, opening the door. “He—”

“Gwaine!”

They rushed over to where he lay crumpled on the floor. Anna checked his pulse and frowned. “Can you sit him up?” she said, pulling her smelling salts from her pocket. She held the bottle under his nose.

Gwaine came to slowly, blinking dazedly. “Anna?” he said, his voice rough. “Are we winning?”

Percival looked at her worriedly over Gwaine’s head.

“What do you mean?”

“I could hear fighting,” he answered, struggling to push himself up in Percival’s arms. “I had to warn everyone—” He fell back, panting.

“There’s no fighting, Gwaine,” Anna said soothingly. “Everyone is safe. Let’s get him to bed,” she added to Percival.

“Perce—you there?” Gwaine asked as his friend pulled him up, practically carrying him back to bed.

“Yep. Right here,” Percival agreed in a calm tone, though his eyes were worried.

“Sir Percival, could you pour Sir Gwaine some water?” Anna said, checking Gwaine’s pulse again. It was rapid and weak.

Percival held the cup to Gwaine’s lips, and waited as his friend drank deeply. “You’re sure everyone’s safe?” Gwaine asked again worriedly as Percival put it down.

“Absolutely,” Percival assured him. “You just rest.” He put his hand on Gwaine’s head. 

Gwaine smiled up at him, his eyes half-lidded. “Thanks, Perce.”

Anna helped Gwaine to lie down again. “Try to sleep,” she said gently. “Well get you something to eat when you’re a little recovered.”

She and Percival went out into the corridor. “What’s wrong with him?” Percival asked.

“He tried to refeed too quickly,” she explained. “It’s affecting his heart. A little delirium is not unexpected.”

Percival didn’t look at all reassured. “I’ll fetch you both something to eat,” he offered, and headed off toward the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to know what people think of this fic. Please review!


	14. Chapter 14

Gwaine awoke a short time later and Anna fed him some lunch, then laid him back down.

“How’s Gaius?” he asked as Anna took a seat beside his bed.

“Doing better—Merlin felt free to leave him for awhile this morning. Did you know Gwen is back?” Gwaine listened expectantly. “Merlin and Arthur met up with her again in Ealdor, and I think she’s back to stay.”

“Good.” Gwaine closed his eyes. “I hope Arthur will get his head on straight and marry her.”

Anna was surprised that Gwaine wasn’t more upset about Gwen’s betrayal of Arthur—but perhaps he had forgotten about it. After all, his head probably wasn’t entirely clear right now. He looked like he was going to sleep again, so she didn’t ask.

When Gwaine fell asleep, Anna moved her chair over by the window and read for awhile by the late afternoon light—Percival had brought her a book from Gaius’s library with her lunch. She was distracted from the herbal properties of peppermint by movement from the direction of the bed.

Gwaine was awake and was trying to push himself up. “Can’t breathe,” he gasped as Anna bent over him.

She pulled him up into a sitting position and steadied him as he struggled to catch his breath. Gwaine clutched her sleeve as he gasped. His lips were blue-ish.

“Easy. Easy,” Anna murmured soothingly, pressing her fingers to his pulse.

Slowly Gwaine’s breathing eased, and he let his head fall back limply on the pillows. Anna detached his hand from her sleeve and fetched him a drink of water.

He turned his head and looked at her as she put the cup aside. “Am I dying?” he asked weakly.

Anna sat down on the edge of the bed and took his hand. “No,” she said. “I won’t let that happen.”

Gwaine shut his eyes. At length, his breathing evened out and he slept. Anna laid him down—he didn’t even stir, though he frowned even in sleep. She sat looking at him for a moment, her lips pressed together in thought. Then she left the room and hurried toward Gaius’s surgery.

000

“I don’t know,” Merlin said as they hurried back to Gwaine’s room. He dropped his voice. “I haven’t had a wonderful record of magical healing. Sometimes I can do it and sometimes I can’t.”

“You healed yourself when you were injured,” she pointed out. “I saw you do it. And you told me you healed the knights when you were chasing Julius Borden, and Gwen when she got shot.”

“But those were flukes. I’ve failed to heal Arthur on a number of occasions, and I try to heal Gaius’s patients all the time, and that _never_ seems to work.”

“Really?” Anna was surprised. “I’ve never seen you try. I thought you just let Gaius… do his thing.”

Merlin’s ears turned red. “I don’t like to try to heal people when someone’s watching—because it so seldom works. It’s embarrassing,” he mumbled.

Anna wordlessly patted his arm and opened the door to Gwaine’s room. Gwaine was still asleep, breathing shallowly through his mouth. He was still unusually pale.

Merlin sat down on the side of Gwaine’s bed and felt the pulse in his wrist. Then he placed one hand over Gwaine’s heart and bent his head forward with an expression of intense concentration. He said something in a language Anna didn’t understand, and his eyes flashed gold. He felt Gwaine’s pulse again, and shook his head. Again he bent his head, and tried a different spell, and again checked Gwaine’s pulse. He did it five times, his frustration clearly rising. Finally he looked up at Anna and shook his head. “No change,” he said bleakly.

Anna looked discouraged for a moment, then straightened her shoulders. “Well, I’ll just have to pull him through it,” she said decisively. “I told him he was going to make it, and I’m not breaking that promise.”

000

It was dark when Merlin left, and he sent a servant back with a cot and some supper for Anna. She ate, and read a little more by candlelight, finally going to bed herself when it seemed like Gwaine was soundly asleep.

Anna was awoken from sleep by a moan. She tumbled out of the cot and lit a candle. Gwaine was lying still on the bed, holding fistfuls of his blanket as he gulped back another moan. Anna checked his pulse. He was having palpitations; a cold sweat stood out on his face.

Anna filled the basin with water from the ewer and wiped the sweat away with a soft cloth. “It will pass,” she repeated softly. “It will pass.”

Gwaine opened his eye. “Anna?” he gasped.

“I’m here.”

“Is she coming?”

“Who?”

“Morgana. She won’t go away.”

“She’s gone, Gwaine. She wont’ come back.”

“No. He clutched at her hand. “She can’t come back—while you’re here.” He gulped as his heart began to pound again. “Don’t go,” he whispered.

“I won’t,” she assured him, pushing his hair off his forehead. “I’ve got you.”

He turned his head toward her hand. “She’ll leave when she sees you,” he muttered, so low she almost couldn’t hear him.

Gwaine’s heartbeat steadied out and he fell into a light sleep. Anna stayed by him, holding his hand and watching the shadows the candle cast over his face, his pained and exhausted expression.

He woke an hour later as his heart began to race again. “Anna?” he groaned.

“I’m still here.”

“You have to scare her off. Your magic is stronger than hers.”

Anna frowned, trying to decide whether she should try to correct him. But when he clutched again at her hand with a moan of pain, the idea fled.

“She won’t come near you,” she promised. She tried to think of something she could do to reassure him. Merlin used spells to do his magic, but she didn’t know the words. Then she had an idea.

Quietly, Anna began to sing. She sang the lullabies her mother had sung over her as a child, that Sifa had used to quiet the children in the forest. Gwaine seemed to relax at the sound of her voice, so she kept singing. When she had run out of lullabies she turned to love songs, songs about springtime, about birds, about the simple tasks of a simpe life. Gwaine fell asleep as she sang, his fingers still curled around hers. Anna waited until he seemed deeply asleep to stop singing and gently slip her hand from his. They both slept heavily through the rest of the night.


	15. Chapter 15

“Percival.” Someone was shaking his shoulder. “Sir Percival, wake up.”

Percival blinked his eyes sleepily. “Wha…?”

Anna was standing over him. “Did you sleep here all night?”

He rubbed his eyes and shifted uncomfortably in the chiar he had set outside Gwaine’s door the night before. “I couldn’t sleep in my bed knowing how sick Gwaine was,” he said, rolling his shoulders. “How is he?”

“Sleeping peacefully right now,” she said. “Actually, I have some things I have to do. Would you like to sit with him while I’m gone?”

“Yes!” Percival sprang to his feet, wincing as his back reminded him he had slept in a chair. “Ow.”

Gwaine lay so unnaturally still and pale that Percival found himself tiptoeing and holding his breath as he crossed the room.

“What do I do if—if his heart—”

“Sit him up so he can breathe more easily,” she answered. “Other than that—just be there with him. Reassure him.”

Percival nodded, but felt in need of a little reassurance himself. When Anna shut the door behind her, he fought down the urge to call her back.

Too sore to sit, Percival stood looking down at his friend. He wasn’t used to seeing Gwaine so quiet, so still. So…lifeless. Percival gulped. It made him feel small and weak—helpless.

Percival didn’t know how long he stood there before Gwaine finally shifted and opened his eyes. “Perce?” he said, squinting up at him.

“Hey, Gwaine,” Percival said, sitting down next to the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Thirsty.” Percival fetched him a drink of water. “What’s happening out there?” Gwaine asked when he was finished.

“They’re working on rebuilding the houses that were burnt in the lower town,” Percival said. “Some of the crops were destroyed, but it’s early enough in the year they can replant. The castle’s kind of a mess, too. Gwen’s martially the staff to clean everything up.” He smiled. “Actually, there’s some news, there.” Gwaine looked at him expectantly. “Gwen and Arthur have made up. They’re getting married.”

Gwaine grinned. “Finally! When’s the ceremony?”

“As soon as they have everything cleaned up and can get some clothes made. Couple of weeks. I know we don’t really talk about this,” he added, “but what do you think about Gwen?”

“She’s a good woman. Kind, smart, has her finger on the pulse of the people. She’ll make an excellent queen.”

“Yes, but what do you think about… what she _did?_ ”

Gwaine frowned. “A person she cared about very much came back from the dead,” he said at last. “That’s enough to throw anybody for a loop. I’m not saying that’s justification for what she did, but it certainly explains it. But we know she loved Arthur—loves him still.” He paused. “I’ve always thought there was something more to the story. Something we don’t know—that Arthur doesn’t know.”

Percival nodded. “I always thought so, too,” he disclosed. “Glad to know I’m not the only one with that feeling.”

“But it doesn’t matter now,” Gwaine added. “Best forgotten.”

000

Percival stayed with Gwaine most of the morning, and other than some mild palpitations, Gwaine had no problems with his heart that day. He was still rather weak, and occasionally had a little shortness of breath, but it seemed like he was much improved. “I think your magic must have worked after all,” Anna told Merlin after two days of steady improvement.

Merlin shook his head. “You said he was still pretty bad after I saw him. Healing magic doesn’t have a delayed reaction like that. It can help little by little with every application, or it can help all at once. But it doesn’t start working well _after_ the magic is applied. I think it’s probably your nursing.”

“But I didn’t do anything,” Anna said. “There was nothing I _could_ do.”

“You said you were going to pull him through it.”

Anna blew out her cheeks and ran a hand over her hair. “I was just _willing_ him to live. I really didn’t do anything.”

“Well, your _nothing_ worked, apparently.” Merlin smiled. “Gwaine’s strong; maybe he just needed some comfort and reassurance to get him through.”

000

In a couple more days’ time, Anna decided that Gwaine was strong enough to leave his bed. She entered his room that morning with a tray of food. He was lying in bed with his arms crossed behind his head, waiting for her.

“Breakfast!” she said cheerfully.

Gwaine moved to sit up, but seemed to be having trouble. Anna frowned; she had thought he had regained most of his strength. Setting the tray down on the bedside table, she leaned over and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him up into a sitting position as she had done so many times.

But just as she moved to let go, she felt Gwaine wrap his arms around her, embracing her, stopping her from pulling away. “Thank you,” he murmured, pulling his head away, brushing a stray hair off of her brow. He put his hand to her cheek and leaned in…

Anna pulled away, her face alternately red and white, and stood up. “I—uh—have to go,” she said, and went over to the door. “Oh, you can—get up later, if you like,” she added quickly, not looking at him. “Just don’t overdo it.” She slipped quickly from the room. Gwaine stared after her in confusion.


	16. Chapter 16

“GWAINE!” Elyan hit him in the back with the flat of his sword.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“Stop staring off into space,” Elyan answered, annoyed. “How are you supposed to defend yourself if you’re not even paying attention?”

“Elyan!” They turned to see Gwen walking onto the field. The other knights stopped what they were doing and bowed to her. She smiled at them. “Carry on,” she said cheerfully, and turned back to her brother. “Did I see you striking a man in the back?” she scolded with mock severity.

“In battle the enemy won’t wait for Gwaine to get his head out of the clouds,” Elyan joked. “He’s been up there for weeks: I’m just trying to get him back to earth.”

“I don’t think hitting him is the best method,” Gwen suggested, her eyes twinkling. “Sir Gwaine, have you had enough of my brother beating up on you for the day?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Gwaine answered emphatically, and walked with her back toward the castle.

“Elyan’s not wrong, you know,” Gwen said to him after awhile, as they strolled along the arcade. “You’ve been rather distracted. The only person besides myself that I saw you dance with at the wedding banquet was Raynelle. I thought maybe you were just tired—still recovering—but you seem quite well now. May I ask what’s bothering you?”

Gwaine frowned in silence for a long moment, as if debating how to answer. “It’s a girl,” he said at last.

Gwen’s eyes twinkled again. “I might have known. What happened?”

He shook his head. “I could have _sworn_ she liked me—that she admired me for some time. I barely noticed her. And now that I have…” He blew a stray hair out of his face. “She will barely look at me. I can’t think of anything I’ve done to make her angry—to make her avoid me like this.”

“Have you spoken to her about it?”

“ _No._ Far too embarrassing.”

Gwen laughed. “Courage, Sir Gwaine! I thought you were a knight of Camelot!”

Gwaine smiled. “Courage in the face of armed warriors is easy. Courage in the face of the woman you… you admire is something else altogether.” 

“Faint heart never won fair lady. I suppose you could always work up to it by asking her friends.”

“Maybe.”

“Your majesty,” a councilor said, hurrying up to them. “The King requests your presence in the council chamber.”

“Of course. Gwaine,” she said, giving him a smile and nod. Gwaine bowed, and watched her go.

000

“Gwaine, where have you been?” Arthur asked.

“Out here,” Gwaine said vaguely, “walking.”

“You missed lunch! Is the world going to end?”

Gwaine looked at him blankly. “I did?”

“Yes. Better hurry up and beg something from Cook, or you won’t get anything to eat until suppertime.”

But Cook was in no mood for Gwaine that day. “Out,” she ordered succinctly.

“But—”

“OUT.” Cook turned him around and gave him a shove out the door.

This called for drastic measures. Gwaine went to his quarters to fetch the hook and string. It would be more fun with Percival, but Perce was on patrol that afternoon. It would have to be a solo job.

Gwaine went to the storeroom just above the kitchen. Through a grate in the floor he could see Cook and her underlings running here and there, working over ovens and stewpots. There—a pot of boiled capons. Gwaine lay down on his stomach over the grate and prepared to lower the hook.

“Your lunch is over here,” Cook said to someone outside the kitchen door. Gwaine craned his head to see. “We set it aside for you.”

“Thank you, Cook,” came Sifa’s voice.

_Typical_ , Gwaine thought. Cook was playing favorites again.

“Yes, thank you,” came another voice, and Anna followed Sifa into the kitchen. “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

“Not at all. Call if you need anything.”

Sifa and Anna headed over to the table in the corner, and Gwaine followed along above, to the grate just above their table.

“I understand the Queen has offered you a job as her personal maid,” Anna said as they tucked in. “Congratulations!”

Sifa smiled shyly. “Thank you. I don’t know if I’m up to it.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. You must be excited.”

Sifa bit her lip. “I guess so.” Anna watched her with raised brows as she took a bite of her lunch. Sifa shrugged a little. “My father s—wrote to me. He wanted me to take the job. He thought it would be good for me—to take some responsibility.”

“You took plenty of responsibility when we were hiding out in the forest,” Anna pointed out. Sifa smiled again. “You’ll be wonderful.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes. “Could you show me how to dance sometime?” Sifa asked diffidently. “I was sorry to miss out at the feast.”

“Oh, of course! Any time I’m free.”

“I was surprised to see Sir Gwaine dancing with that female knight—what’s her name?”

“Sir Raynelle.”

“And _she_ led _him!_ ”

Anna smiled. “Sir Leon told me that’s something they do every time they’re at a dance together. Some sort of inside joke. I apparently wasn’t in Camelot yet when this tradition had its start.”

“Here’s some extra bread, girls,” Cook said, coming over with a platter. “I had trouble keeping Sir Gwaine’s grubby paws off of it.” She laughed. “He came in trying for some extra lunch, but I soon turned him out! He can’t trick me with his flirtation.”

“Is he really that much of a flirt?” Sifa asked.

“Oh, yes, my dear,” cook answered. “Teasing the kitchen girls, using that adorable smile on the maids… I bet there isn’t a girl in the place who isn’t half in love with him. I’m not saying he takes advantage of that,” she added quickly. “Always a gentleman—unlike _some_ men who have stayed in this castle! But I always have to remind the girls—he doesn’t mean anything by it. Just because he’s charming doesn’t mean he wants to charm _you!_ ” She laughed again and headed back to her work.

Sifa returned to their former conversation. “You danced very nicely with Merlin. I thought Sir Leon looked disappointed when you told him and Sir Gwaine you were too tired to dance any more.”

Anna lowered her eyes to her plate. “I’m sure Sir Leon didn’t care much,” she answered with a mild smile. “He’s a knight of Camelot—a _handsome_ knight—with ladies lining up to dance with him. Being turned down by a homely physician’s apprentice couldn’t have spoiled his evening. I’m sure he hardly thought about it after.”

“I doubt that. He stood and talked to you for at least the length of a dance. You seem to be good friends.”

“Well, the first time we met, I stitched up his shoulder and nursed him through a fever,” Anna said with a grin. “It does tend to forge a connection.” She paused. “Healers have to be careful, sometimes. Their can patients sometimes conceive an attraction for them. Not that I’m saying Leon’s attracted to me,” she said quickly. “It’s just been known to happen. With healers I’ve known.”

“If it _did_ happen with Leon, I can’t imagine you’d be upset!” Sifa said with a giggle. “Like you said—a handsome knight of Camelot!”

Anna smiled. “Not at first, I wouldn’t be sorry. But maybe later. These little infatuations don’t last. And I would have raised my eyes to somebody too high above me—in looks, in status—and in the end, I’d get my heart broken.” She cleared her throat and raised her eyebrows with a forced grin. “In the end—not worth it!”

The girls carried on with their lunch and their gossip, but Gwaine wasn’t hungry anymore. He left the storeroom quietly and headed back to his room, frowning in thought.


	17. Chapter 17

Gwaine knocked on the door of Gaius’s surgery. “Come in!”

“I—oh, am I interrupting something?” He looked back and forth between Gaius and Merlin, who had obviously been deep in conversation.

“No, no—”

“Anna’s missing,” Merlin said.

“It’s probably nothing, Merlin,” Gaius chided. “She went out to gather some herbs in the woods,” he explained to Gwaine.

“Three hours ago!”

Gaius ignored him. “Did you need something?”

“Actually, I wanted to talk to Anna,” Gwaine admitted. “How deep was she going into the woods?”

“Oh, no farther than the patrols travel,” Gaius assured him. “Everything we need for everyday supplies grows in the safest parts of the forest.”

“Exactly,” Merlin said. “So why isn’t she back yet?”

“She said something about needing to clear her head,” Gaius pointed out

Gwaine felt himself go a little red and hoped they didn’t notice.

“It doesn’t take anyone three hours to clear their head,” Merlin argued.

“You might be surprised.” Gwaine shut his mouth as the other two looked at him curiously. “But I agree with Merlin—we should go make sure she’s safe.”

Gaius gave in. “Very well. Merlin, you know where we usually cut herbs…”

“I’ll go with him,” Gwaine volunteered.

“Are you sure? Don’t you have things to do here?”

“Got the afternoon off. And if she’s hurt, we’ll probably want two people…”

Gaius nodded. “I’m sorry to be constantly sending you off to search for my missing apprentices…”

Gwaine grinned. “It’s no problem. Anna and Merlin are good friends.” He and Merlin said their goodbyes and headed off toward the forest.

000

Leaves. Gray sky. Silence.

Anna blinked her eyes, trying to get the world into focus. Everything looked funny; she couldn’t tell which way was up. She was cold; she knew that. And there was wet on her face. Rain?

The trees were spinning again. Anna closed her eyes.

000

“Oh, and now it’s spitting rain,” Gwaine complained. “Unseasonably cold for June, isn’t it?”

“You didn’t have to come, you know,” Merlin reminded him.

“I spare no pains in rescuing fair maidens.”

“Alright.” Merlin stopped in a small grove. “This is where we search for tree moss.” He pointed at a large tree with something hairlike hanging on it.

“Lovely.” Gwaine crouched down. “Someone has been here recently,” he said, pointing to a footprint in the soft dirt. “Might have been Anna.”

“Then where is she now?” Merlin asked, scanning the grove.

“The footprints head toward the tree,” Gwaine said, walking toward it.

The tree on which the moss grew was large, and as he neared it, Gwaine realized it stood on the edge of an eight-foot drop. “Looks like some of the dirt around the roots gave way— _Anna!_ ”

Merlin came running. Anna lay on her back at the bottom of the drop. “We have to get down there,” he said urgently.

“There,” Gwaine said, pointing. A short distance away was a decline that would bring them down to her level. In a moment they were kneeling beside her.

“We have to bring her to,” Merlin said, checking her pulse.

Gwaine thought for a moment, then felt for her pocket.

“What are you doing?”

“Here.” Gwaine pulled out her vial of smelling salts and uncapped it, holding it under her nose.

000

Something stank. Anna rolled her head back and forth, trying to get away from it.

“Anna!” There was a voice that sounded like it was coming from far away, as if she were underwater. “Anna, wake up.”

She opened her eyes. The green leaves and gray sky were still there, but there was a face as well.

“Gwaine?” she groaned.

“Anna, can you hear me?” Merlin’s face came into view. “Tell me what happened.”

She blinked, tried to remember. “I was picking moss,” she said. Her voice sounded strange and faraway, too. “The edge crumbled—I fell.”

“Wiggle your toes for me.”

Anna wasn’t entirely sure at this point that she _had_ toes, but she gave it a try.

“Good.” Merlin sounded relieved. “How many fingers?”

“Four.”

He felt the back of her head, her neck, down her spine. “I think she’s alright,” he said at last to Gwaine.

“Alright. Up you get, Sweetheart.” Gwaine slung her arm over his neck and lifted her. The world spun again, and she groaned.

“Did I hurt you?”

“N-no.” But she still couldn’t tell which way was up. All she knew was that she wasn’t falling. She shut her eyes again.

“She’s blacked out again,” Gwaine said to Merlin. 

“I’ll run ahead for Gaius,” Merlin answered. “Head injuries are tricky; I want him to take a look at her as soon as possible. You can follow and we’ll meet you halfway.”

“I don’t know—it’s starting to rain in earnest,” Gwaine said, looking up at the dark sky. “She’s chilled already—and maybe we shouldn’t move her too much. I know a cave nearby—”

“Down by the stream?” Gwaine nodded. “I know it. Alright, you take her there, and I’ll bring Gaius to you.” He took off running.

000

When Anna came to, she felt much better. Up was up, down was down, and she was—warm. She opened her eyes.

She sat just inside the mouth of a cave. It was beginning to grow dark outside and it was raining. The sound was soothing, and so was the warmth. There was something draped over her—an arming jacket. A coat of chainmail lay on the ground nearby. And something was holding her up—

And then she heard Gwaine’s voice. He was sitting on the ground with her, holding her, cradling her head against his chest. And he was talking to her, his voice as soothing as the rain. As soon as she heard what he was saying, all other thoughts melted away.

“I know what you think—that I’m not saying anything to you that I haven’t said to many other girls, that I don’t mean it. I know you think that I’m not really interested, or that my interest won’t last. But Anna—none of those girls—I’ve never— When I see you coming down the hall, it’s like the sun has just come out. It’s never been like that—not with anyone else. And this isn’t just a passing thing. You’re not just a pretty face to me, a convenient flirt. I _know_ you—your kindness, your strength, your intelligence. You—when I see you coming, I can’t help but smile—”

She turned suddenly in his arms, sat up. “Anna—” he said, but was cut off immediately when her lips met his.

Gwaine hoped Gaius would take his time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I realized last night that in 17 chapters I have covered 5 major plot points—out of a planned nineteen. THE PLOT BUNNIES ARE EATING ME ALIVE—SEND HELP.  
>  **Please review!**


	18. Chapter 18

It was a sunny spring morning, and the courtyard was full of milling figures in bright colors. Everyone had been warned to be on their best behavior for the delegation from Essetir, including King Gaheris, the son and recent successor to Lot’s throne. The two kings planned to sign a peace treaty in the next few days, and the peace would be celebrated with feasts, minstrels, and a tournament. The air in the courtyard was one of excitement, not anxiety: there had been signs that Gaheris was very different from his brutal father, and was quite willing to have peace. It had been a year since Morgana’s most recent invasion with the help of the Southrons. Camelot had recovered: the houses rebuilt, the farms replanted. Everyone was ready for a chance to eat, drink, and be merry. 

Gwaine and Anna stood behind a pillar, half-hidden from Arthur and Leon, who stood chatting on the steps. They had their arms around one another and were talking quietly.

“How’s Mordred fitting in?” Anna asked.

“Quite well. He’s a sweet-tempered kid—everybody likes him.” He looked at her narrowly. “That’s the second time you’ve asked me that this week. You seem interested in his progress.”

“I’m interested in the welfare of anyone who would help get you out of those caves—and that woman’s clutches,” she answered. “I could have kissed him when you all came back—if I could have torn myself away from you.”

“Mmmm… I remember. You were clinging to me like a limpet.”

“Not like a limpet!”

“A limpet.”

“As I recall, I wasn’t the only one doing the clinging.”

“Lies.” He kissed her.

“They’re here,” Arthur announced from the steps. “Everyone back to their places. Gwaine, stop canoodling.”

Anna scurried back to her post, bright red but smiling sheepishly. Gwaine strolled back to his. “But I _like_ canoodling,” he complained.

“I thought Gwaine _flirting_ was bad,” Arthur said to Merlin, just loud enough for Gwaine to hear. “Gwaine in love is far worse.” The subject of this comment simply grinned.

There was no time for any more chatting: Gaheris’ men were riding into the courtyard, dressed in the slate grey of Essetir. Following them was a tall man on horseback, wearing an iron crown: Gaheris.

Merlin considered him as he dismounted and approached. He wasn’t as young as Merlin had expected him to be—in his forties, with a stern face and grey eyes. But he smiled as he walked up to Arthur and clasped him by the arm, and his smile was warm, crinkling his eyes. Merlin liked him.

“Arthur Pendragon,” he said, nodding to his host.

“Gaheris.”

“Thank you for opening your home to me and my men,” Gaheris said politely.

“We are honored to have you here. Please, come with me.” He led him away at the head of two columns of men, the knights of Camelot and of Essetir.

“What do you think?” Anna whispered, coming up beside Merlin. “Your view was better than mine.”

“I think this is going to work,” Merlin answered, grinning.

“Once there’s peace between Camelot and Essetir, maybe you can visit your mother more often!”

“Maybe. My magic is still a barrier to me spending much time there. People there are already suspicious.”

“Merlin!” someone called. “The King requires you!”

“No rest for the weary,” Merlin grinned and strode off in his jerky way.

000

The Great Hall was particularly full at the feast a few nights later. Arthur had opened the tournament to all comers from either kingdom, and there were men in a multitude of brightly-colored clothing, representing the noble houses of both lands.

“I still think this is a bad idea,” Merlin said as he refilled Leon’s cup, his words masked from other ears by the noisy chatter. It was after the meal proper, and people were milling around the room. The dancing would start soon.

“Merlin, I told you before,” Leon answered patiently. “There are too many loyal knights here from both kingdoms who don’t want any harm to come to either king. The peace is too precious to us all. Arthur is in no danger.”

“People have been telling me that repeatedly since I first came to Camelot,” Merlin observed. “They’re usually wrong.”

“He always comes out of everything alright,” Leon said. Merlin looked at him skeptically. “Relax, Merlin,” Leon added, clapping him on the back. “We won’t let anyone get to him.”

“What about on the tournament field? He and Gaheris are BOTH mad enough to want to join in the ‘festivities’. How can you protect him when he’s fighting hand-to-hand combat?”

“There are rules; we will make sure they are followed.” Merlin opened his mouth to protest. “Merlin, I believe King Gaheris’s cup needs to be refilled,” Leon added quickly.

Merlin gave him a darkling look, but walked over to where Gaheris sat between Arthur and Guinevere.

“More wine, Your Majesty?”

“Ah, thank you, Merlin.” Gaheris turned back to his conversation with Guinevere. “I hope you are not averse to tournaments, my lady,” said. “And if you are, you can squint at the men and pretend they’re a flower garden. They’re colorful enough.”

Guinevere laughed. “Plenty of flowers, but not enough greenery, my lord.”

The doors of the hall banged open and a knight strode in. Merlin nearly dropped the flagon of wine.

The man was huge, the size of Percival if not a little larger, and dressed entirely in green: his shirt and trousers were green, his finely-worked leather belt bore green stones, there were green strands braided into his long brown hair, which hung freely over his shoulders. He wore a green mantle lined with white fur, and across his back he carried a huge battle-axe of green steel and beaten gold, its long, thick haft wound with iron and beautifully engraven with green. Around his waist he wore a green sash, intricately embroidered with golden thread in a design of animals, birds and plants of all kinds. The golden spurs on his heels clanged in the silence that had fallen over the hall as he strode forward to the head table where the monarchs sat.

“Your Majesties,” he said at last in a deep voice, making a cultured bow. “My name is Bertilak de Hautdesert, and I have come to compete in the tournament.”

“Is that enough greenery for you?” Gaheris murmured in Guinevere’s ear.


	19. Chapter 19

For one so flashily dressed, Sir Bertilak kept to himself for the rest of the evening. The kitchen staff brought him some dinner, which he sat and consumed by himself, and then he stood by the wall with his arms crossed and watched everyone else mingling, laughing, and dancing. A couple of people tried to draw him into conversation, but he returned monosyllabic answers, and they soon desisted. Even Lady Ettarda, the biggest gossip and flirt in Camelot, couldn’t get more than a couple of words out of him. Merlin noticed that Bertilak was scrutinizing the other knights and the two kings, Arthur in particular.

“It worries me,” he told Gaius that night. Gwaine had walked Anna home after the feast, and they were alone in the surgery. “It looked like he was sizing Arthur up.”

“Well, Arthur is fighting in the tournament, and he is justly reputed to be one of the greatest swordsmen in the kingdoms,” Gaius pointed out.

“He also has a track record of being the number one most targeted individual at tournaments,” Merlin said sourly. “I’m constantly amazed I’ve managed to keep him out of trouble thus far.”

“We don’t know that Sir Bertilak means Arthur any particular harm,” Gaius repeated patiently. “Just—go to bed, Merlin.”

But Merlin’s fears were not to be long assuaged. “He’s a mercenary,” Anna announced the next morning when Bertilak was mentioned.

“What?”

“Gwaine said he heard of Sir Bertilak on his travels. The word is he’s a sword-for-hire—will do any job, as long as the price is right. There are rumors that his axe is enchanted—that while he holds it, no blade can harm him.” She looked at Merlin’s worried face. “You don’t think that’s true, do you?”

Merlin shook his head. “I don’t know.” He glanced out the window. “But I know that no magic can protect me if I’m not in Arthur’s chamber on time!” He headed toward the door. 

“Should I ask Gwaine to keep an eye out?”

Merlin frowned. “Better not,” he said at last, his hand on the door. “If Bertilak is using magic, it may take magic to defeat him.” Anna nodded. “Just—keep your eyes peeled. See if you can find any evidence of magic.”

000

But in the end it was Merlin himself who found the evidence. Arthur had hauled him down to the practice grounds with him to polish his armor while Arthur took part in sparring practice with the visiting knights. Sir Bertilak was there, and behaving very differently than he had the night before. He was joking with the other knights, calling friendly taunts at his opponents. He was wearing chainmail this time, though still with his gemmed belt, his green sash, his gold spurs, and his magnificent axe.

As Merlin polished Arthur’s helmet, he watched Bertilak sparring with an inexperienced young knight from Gaheris’s kingdom. “Bring your blade up a little higher,” he advised, the iron of the axe haft clanking against the young man’s sword. “That’s better.”

“Watch your feet,” Leon called from behind him.

“Huh?” the young man said, slewing around to see him even as Bertilak closed in. Just then, the young knight tripped over a hillock and went down, bringing down his opponent on top of him. The young man’s sword blade was still up, and Bertilak’s ribs came right down on its point.

“MERLIN!” Leon shouted and raced over, pulling Bertilak off of his opponent and pulling the sword out of his chainmail.

“It’s alright; the chainmail stopped it,” Bertilak reassured them, straightening up.

“I’d like Merlin to take a look at it anyway,” Leon said quickly, clearly disbelieving him. “He’s our physician’s apprentice.”

“It’s fine, really,” Bertilak continued to insist as they helped him over to a bench and pulled off his hauberk. There was a hole in it, and a corresponding hole in his arming jacket and linen shirt, but sure enough, there wasn’t a mark on him.

“It’s a good hauberk,” Bertilak explained quickly as Leon and Merlin and a small group of knights who had been drawn over by the commotion goggled at him.

“The blade must have just gone to the surface of your skin and no further,” Leon finally rationalized. He clapped Bertilak on the shoulder. “You’re one lucky man!”

Merlin didn’t say anything, just scrutinized Bertilak’s face with a frown.

000

“Are you _sure_ the blade should have gone into him?”

“Yes! Why do you keep asking?”

Anna frowned. “Well, it just seems a little too convenient, is all. You go out there expecting to see something happen that proves he’s invincible, and the first thing that happens fulfils all your expectations.”

“Anna’s right,” Gaius agreed. “I can’t help but wonder if you saw what you wanted to see.” Merlin tried to interrupt, and Gaius talked over him. “You’re so eager to find someone cheating at the tournament.”

“Because there so often is someone cheating at the tournament! It’s become a theme of my life!”

“And Bertilak is a rather distinctive-looking fellow,” Anna added to Gaius, ignoring Merlin’s outburst. “He’s a good fighter—so somebody exaggerates, the story catches on… Maybe it’s all nothing.”

“Maybe,” Merlin said, and they looked up at him again. “And maybe he’s trying to kill Arthur or Gaheris!”

Gaius sighed. “What will it take to convince you that Bertilak’s axe isn’t magic?”

“I need to try it myself,” Merlin said.

“Fine.” Gaius crossed his arms. “Why don’t you go down to the armory and give it a try.”

“…Seriously?”

“If that’s the only thing that will convince you that maybe this time the tournament is _just_ a tournament with no magical cheating… yes.”

Merlin fought the urge to roll his eyes, and headed toward the door.

“You’re not going without me!” Anna said, running after him.

“We’re not supposed to be down in the armory. If anybody caught us down there we could get in trouble.”

“Then we’ll just be very, very quiet,” she said, smiling brightly. “If this thing actually works, I want to see it for myself.”

It was after supper, and there was nobody about when they got down to the armory. Each of them lit a tallow candle before going down the stairs into the dark rows of weapons.

“We’ll split up—we can search faster that way,” Merlin said quietly. “Come get me if you find it.”

Anna nodded and they headed off in opposite directions. It actually didn’t take Merlin long to find Bertilak’s armor—it was the only metal in the place that shone green in the candlelight. Bertilak’s huge axe was leaning against a wall, with some of his other weapons and armor around it. Merlin put down his candle and picked up the axe—it was startlingly heavy.

Now, to try to cut himself while holding the axe… Merlin looked around for a sharp blade. Bertilak’s golden spurs were nearby. Holding the axe up in one hand, with difficulty, Merlin reached down and squeezed one of the rowels of the spurs. He sucked the air in between his teeth and looked down at his bleeding thumb. It hadn’t worked.

“What are you doing with my things?” a voice boomed, and Merlin nearly dropped the axe on his toe, grabbing it with both hands at the last moment. He looked up—and up, and up—into the face of Sir Bertilak.


	20. Chapter 20

“Oh. Uh… I was just down here to make sure everybody’s armor was neatly polished,” Merlin lied quickly. “And your axe had fallen over, Sir, so I was straightening it…”

“And my spurs? Did they need to be straightened, too?” Bertilak’s face was thunderous and there was a threat in his tone.

“Oh, I… uh… thought I knocked into one of them when I picked up the axe.”

Bertilak pulled the axe out of Merlin’s grip and lifted it easily, setting the side of the blade on top of Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin gulped.

“Tell me one reason why I shouldn’t take your head off right here,” Bertilak hissed.

“Oops!” There was a clatter behind them, and Anna stumbled into sight. “Oh, dear! Merlin, I kicked a sword,” Anna giggled. She noticed Bertilak and broke into a wide grin. “Oh, did you come down to find me, too?” she simpered, walking toward them unsteadily. “Merlin and I were playing hide-and-seek. Ohhh.” She put her hand on his muscular arm. “Aren’t you strong, then?”

Bertilak’s sour face broke into a leer and he removed his axe from Merlin’s shoulder. “I am that. Coming to see the tournament tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Anna said, leaning in and speaking low. “All those big, muscular men, getting so sweaty…”

“Alright,” Merlin said, taking her arm. “Your mother will kill me if I don’t get you home.” He steered her around Bertilak, who was no longer paying any attention to him, and out of the armory. “And next time there’s a feast, I’m watering your wine.”

“Awww, Merlin, you’re no fun,” Anna slurred, and let him drag her away.

“You’re almost too good at that,” Merlin said when they were well out of the armory and back in a more public part of the castle. “It’s a good thing Gwaine didn’t see you drooling all over him.”

She grinned. “It was to save a friend. Gwaine would understand.”

Merlin smiled ruefully. “Thanks.”

“Did you get to test the axe?” she asked urgently, remembering their mission.

“Yes.” Merlin frowned. “It doesn’t work.”

“Then the incident at the practice field…”

“Just a fluke.”

“You needn’t sound so downcast. Isn’t it a good thing that somebody isn’t cheating?”

“I guess. I was just _so sure_ …”

“Well, keep your eyes open tomorrow.” Anna stopped by the main doors and clapped him on the arm. “Maybe something will turn up.”

“Anna!” Gwaine jogged up. “Where have you been?”

“I got roped into last minute preparations. Ready?”

“Sure am. Goodnight, Merlin,” Gwaine said, offering Anna his arm. They headed out toward Anna’s house.”

“Goodnight.”

000

Anna took a deep breath the next morning and knocked on Gwaine’s door.

“Come in.” He looked up from where he stood at the window, buckling on his armor. His face lit up when he saw her. “Annie! Come to wish me luck?”

“Yes. And to give you this.” She blushed fiery red as she held out a white strip of cloth, which she had embroidered in scarlet. “Please wear it—for me.”

Gwaine grinned. “Certainly, my lady.” He held out his arm, and she tied it on between his couter and his rerebrace, ducking her head. When she had finished he lifted her chin and gave her a kiss. “I am honored to wear your favour.”

She smiled, her eyes twinkling, and moved around him to fasten the straps on his armor. “Are you planning to challenge anyone?” There were scheduled bouts in the morning, and the afternoon was to be mostly given over to personal challenges.

“If anyone beats me in the morning I’ll probably try a rematch,” he answered. Anna knew that usually he was the one being challenged, as he was one of the best swordsmen in the kingdom in hand-to-hand combat, and there wasn’t to be any jousting this time.

“ _If_ ,” she repeated with a smile, buckling the last piece of plate in place and throwing his cape over his shoulders. She lifted her face and gave him a kiss as she hooked it. “Good luck.”

000

“Ah, there you are.” Gaius didn’t comment on Anna’s late arrival to the physician’s tent at one end of the lists: he knew where she had been. Besides, the servants had carried everything out in the morning, so she hadn’t been needed yet. “I hope we’ll have fewer casualties this time than at the last tournament.”

“Oh?”

“Someone tried to use a sharpened blade when they had been expressly forbidden. Luckily, no one was _too_ seriously hurt.”

“But this time they _are_ allowed to use sharp blades, aren’t they?”

“In the challenge part during the afternoon. But it’s doubtful many will choose to do so. After all, this is supposed to be a friendly competition, celebrating a new peace.”

The morning went off without a hitch: Arthur and Gaheris were both competing, and both proved their abilities as swordsmen. Gaius and Anna mostly just had bangs and bruises to bind up, and one sprained ankle. The morning’s bouts went so smoothly and quickly that they finished early, and moved on to challenges before luncheon. 

Bertilak had beaten every fighter he had gone up against in the morning’s bouts, so it wasn’t long before he was challenged—this time with bladed weapons.

Bertilak seemed almost gleeful as he took up his gigantic axe to do battle against Sir Sagramor, his first challenger. He had bested him earlier in the morning when Sagramor tripped over an uneven place in the ground of the lists, so he was eager to fight against the Green Knight again.

Sagramor put up a good fight. The crowd was very excited; there were cheers every time one or other of the fighters got in a good hit. Sagramor was popular in Camelot, but Bertilak had fought so well that day that he had his own little following in the stands. Merlin and Anna stood at the end of the lists watching the fight.

“Oo!” Anna suddenly exclaimed. Sagramor, faster on his feet than his heavy opponent, had ducked a swipe of Bertilak’s axe and had spun around, slicing between Bertilak’s armor and wounding his arm. Expecting his opponent to fall back in pain, he moved more slowly than usual to deliver the next blow. But Bertilak took no time to recover, and used the haft of his axe to hit Sagramor in the belly, knocking him backward onto the dirt.

Sagramor lay panting, trying to catch his breath, and Bertilak held the blade of his axe to Sagramor’s throat: the match was his.

Bertilak’s admirers cheered, and he offered his hand to his opponent, pulling Sagramor to his feet. The two of them headed to the end of the lists, the golden thread on Bertilak’s sash glinting in the sun.

“Let me see your arm,” Merlin said as Anna escorted Sagramor to the physician’s tent.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Bertilak said.

“Come, Bertilak,” Leon said, striding up. “You need to have that stitched so you can compete in the afternoon. I for one want you to be whole when I challenge you!”

“No, really.” Bertilak saw he couldn’t escape, and removed some of the plate armor from his left arm. “Look.”

He displayed the rent in his green arming jacket, holding it open and pushing the down stuffing aside. The skin beneath was perfectly whole.

“You must have the hide of a boar!” Leon exclaimed. “I could swear you went to a tanner before you came to Camelot!”

Bertilak grinned at this sally and picked up his axe again. “I believe the herald is announcing a break for luncheon,” he said. “I will see you in the Great Hall, Sir Leon.”

Merlin sped back to Gaius’s tent and saw the physician pinning up the bandage he had wrapped around Sagramor’s bruised ribs.

“Tell me I at least left a nice scar,” Sagramor groaned.

Merlin shook his head. “Not a mark on him.” Anna and Gaius both shot Merlin a piercing look, then exchanged a glance with each other.

Sagramor slapped his leg. “I could have _sworn_ my blade went _right_ between the plates.”

When Sagramor had been sent out of the tent to wash up for luncheon, the three healers looked at one another.

“The blade definitely went deep enough to go into his arm,” Merlin asserted, “but there wasn’t a mark on him. Just a rend in his arming jacket—just like before.”

“It’s very unlikely such a fortuitous chance would happen twice in two days,” Gaius admitted. “But you said the axe did nothing.”

“No. I don’t think it’s the axe. It would be a silly thing to enchant with a protective spell, anyway. What if he were disarmed in a fight? Then he wouldn’t have the protection anymore. No, it’s more likely to be something he’s actually wearing.”

“It could be anything, then,” Anna pointed out. “His breastplate, his arming jacket—”

“No, not the arming jacket. Bertilak isn’t the type to hide his light under a bushel. Look at all that green! He wants to make a spectacle of himself. He wouldn’t wear a protective charm that he couldn’t show off. Besides, his jacket was cut by Sagramor’s sword. No, we’re looking for something that isn’t harmed in combat—something that doesn’t even seem to get dirty in the dust of the lists. Something that’s spectacular and eye-catching…”

Gaius and Anna caught on at the same moment. “His sash!”

Merlin nodded. “Now, here’s the real question: how do we steal it?”


	21. Chapter 21

Unfortunately, Bertilak wore the sash to luncheon.

“Maybe I can snag it—get it to fall off,” Anna suggested. Luncheon—for the contenders, anyway—was being held in the Great Hall. Anna and Gaius were eating down near the foot, the two kings at the head, and Merlin was helping to serve. It was near the end of the meal, and everyone would soon be heading back to the lists.

“I think he’ll notice,” Merlin argued. “It’s better if we get him to take it off himself.”

“But how?”

Merlin hefted his flagon of wine. “Leave it to me,” he said with a wink.

Anna quickly looked away so as not to draw attention to him, and a moment later she heard sounds of consternation at the top of the Hall. When she looked back, Bertilak was on his feet, wringing wine out of his sash and tunic, and Merlin was apologizing profusely.

“Merlin!” Arthur exclaimed in annoyance.

“Here, let me take that down to the laundry,” Merlin said, reaching for the sash.

Bertilak snatched it back. “No. It was given to me by a lady, and it is very delicate. I will clean it myself.”

“Wine is hard to get out—” 

“He _said_ he’d clean it himself,” Arthur growled, and Merlin stepped back. Bertilak, after giving Merlin a darkling look, bowed to the two kings and excused himself, heading back toward the lists. “A bowl of water and some salt to Sir Bertilak’s tent, _Merlin_ ,” Arthur ordered pointedly.

000

Bertilak wasn’t wearing the sash when the contenders assembled on the field to begin the second half of the tournament. When Anna walked back into Gaius’s tent, she found Merlin in the corner behind a privacy screen, examining the sash.

“He left it in his tent to dry,” Merlin explained.

“How are you going to disenchant it?” Anna whispered, sitting down next to him.

“Depends on how it was enchanted in the first place…” Merlin turned the sash over, examining the stitching. “What’s this?...” he muttered, feeling the very middle of the sash. “Pass me that scalpel.” He used it to pick open some of the stitching. When he pulled away the cloth, Anna could see something glinting inside.

“What is it?”

Merlin pulled out a metal disk with symbols carved on it. “A protective amulet,” he said, turning it over in his hands. “This—I’ve seen something like this before. The necklace that killed the King, the necklace that Morgana enchanted. It felt like this.”

“You think she gave it to Bertilak?”

“I think she hired him to kill Arthur,” Merlin said grimly.

There was a trumpet blast from the lists. “The contenders are returning to their tents!” Anna said urgently. “Bertilak will notice the sash is missing!”

Merlin grabbed a needle and some silk thread Gaius had on hand to stitch up wounds. “I’ll just close this up…”

“What if he notices the difference in the weight?”

Merlin glanced around. “Do you have a penny?”

Anna dug one out of her pocket. “Isn’t it too small?” she asked as Merlin sewed it into the sash where he had removed the amulet. 

“A little bit.” He frowned. “I hope he doesn’t look at it too carefully. Now I’ve got to sneak it back into his tent—”

He opened the flap on Gaius’s tent to stare directly into Arthur’s face—and the King didn’t look pleased. “Where have you been?” he said in exasperation as Merlin quickly stuck the sash behind his back. “I had to get somebody else to buckle up my armor. I need you in my tent.”

“Just a minute, as soon as I—”

“NOW.”

Merlin felt Anna take the sash from his hands. “I’ll take care of your chores here,” she said, hiding the sash in the folds of her skirt. “Go ahead.”

Merlin gave her a quick smile, and followed Arthur.

000

By the time Anna got to Bertilak’s tent, he was already back. She could hear him clanking around inside, cursing. Taking a deep breath, she pulled back the flap and stepped inside.

Bertilak barely looked up. “If you’re drunk again, I can tell you you’re in the wrong tent,” he said shortly. He was moving frantically around the tent, pushing aside armor, rooting through clothing.

“Are you missing something?” Anna asked.

“My sash. I though I hung it up over there to dry,” he said, pointing briefly to a sword rack, “but I can’t find it anywhere. Someone must have stolen it.” Anna crouched down next to the rack as he threw the last pile of clothes aside, his face a mask of rage. “That servant of Arthur’s. He was so insistent about taking it to the laundry…”

“Do you mean this sash?” Anna said, straightening up and shaking it out.

Bertilak stepped forward. “Where did you find it?”

“Right here,” she said, pointing to the ground behind the sword rack. “It must have fallen off.”

He looked relieved; then his eyes narrowed. “What _are_ you doing in my tent?”

000

Gwaine stepped out of his tent, carrying his helmet, and glanced around for Anna. He hadn’t seen her since the beginning of luncheon, and she had seemed distracted then, glancing often at Merlin and Bertilak. He wanted to get one final kiss for luck from her before the challenges began. He finally caught sight of her—slipping into Sir Bertilak’s tent. Gwaine frowned, and walked over to it.

“What _are_ you doing in my tent?” Sir Bertilak was saying as he approached. Gwaine could hear him through the thick fabric, and he quickly slipped around the back, where he was hidden from others’ sight by the wooden side of the stands. There was a small gap in the tent flaps there, and he peered inside.

“I just wanted to wish you luck,” Anna was saying, with a flirtatious smile on her face.

“Mm. You could have done that _outside_ my tent.” Bertilak stepped closer to her, and Gwaine felt his ire rise. “First you come on to me in the armory last night, and then I find you in my tent… What am I to read into that?” Anna was blushing, but still smiling. “And this time you don’t even have the excuse of being drunk.”

Bertilak reached for the sash, but Anna playfully pulled it back. “May I?” she said. Bertilak raised his arms, and Anna threw the sash around him, wrapping her arms around his waist to pull it straight. She looked up at him under her lashes as she tied it. “Good luck,” she said in a low voice, and moved to pull away. 

He grabbed her hips and pulled her back. “Seal it with a kiss,” he said, and suited his actions to his words.

The trumpet sounded and Bertilak looked up. Anna skipped out of his grasp and dashed out of the tent, throwing one last flirtatious smile at him over her shoulder.

Gwaine drew back from the tent flap and realized he had his hand on his sword hilt, gripping it so hard that his knuckles had turned white. He slowly let go, took a deep breath, then walked back around Bertilak’s tent. He paused at the front flap, considering, then stalked onto the field. The challenges were going to be interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the proverbial hitteth the fan.


	22. Chapter 22

Merlin was standing at the fence by the lists when Anna walked up, scrubbing at her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Did you get it to him?” Merlin asked urgently.

“Yeah.” Anna gave one last wipe at her mouth. “And I even managed to put it on him, so he wouldn’t notice the size of the coin.”

“Great.”

“What did you do with the medallion?”

“Threw it in the armorer’s forge.”

“ _WHAT?_ Why?!” Anna looked scandalized. “Don’t you realize you could have sewn that thing into Arthur’s underwear and never worried about a tournament again?”

“It’s black magic, Anna. I can’t use it.”

“Protection spells are black magic?” She looked completely unconvinced.

“Anna,” Merlin said patiently, “if someone tried to cut Bertilak’s head off while he was wearing that medallion, what do you suppose would happen?”

“I don’t know—his sword would bounce off, I guess.”

Merlin shook his head. “Bertilak’s head would come right off—and then Bertilak would pick it up and put it back on again.” Anna looked horrified. “It’s not a protection spell—it’s cheating death. And that takes powerful magic—black magic. I hate to even imagine what Morgana must have gone through to make that medallion.”

Anna frowned. “If she took all that trouble to make something so powerful,” she said slowly, “why wouldn’t she keep it for herself?”

“She seems to think she’s untouchable,” Merlin shrugged.

“No—I mean, why wouldn’t she just put it on and walk into Camelot herself—just blast away anyone who tried to stop her, walk up, and stab Arthur? Why use a go-between?”

Merlin frowned. “That’s a very good question.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the herald announcing the afternoon’s program. The winners from the morning’s bouts lined up in front of the stands and those knights who wished to challenge them walked up and tapped their shields with the point of their swords. Quite a number of bouts ensued. Almost everyone seemed to be taking advantage of the opportunity to fight one of the two Kings—after all, it was not everyone who could say that they had fought hand-to-hand with a king. Yet Bertilak made no move. 

Finally, just after Arthur had fought two bouts in a row, Bertilak stepped forward. But instead of speaking to the herald to announce his challenge, he walked straight up to Arthur and threw his green leather glove on the ground at Arthur’s feet, at the same time announcing in a loud voice, “Arthur Pendragon, I hereby challenge you to a fight to the death.”

There was an immediate outcry, both in the stands and on the field. “Sir Bertilak, we are met here under a banner of peace,” the herald remonstrated. “There is no place in this tournament for a fight to the death.”

Arthur added his own voice. “I have no quarrel with you, Sir Bertilak. I have welcomed you to Camelot and offered you hospitality. What is your reason for this challenge?”

“My reason is my own,” Bertilak answered imperturbably. “You will give me satisfaction, or I will subscribe you a coward.”

“Even by the rules of honorable dueling, such a challenge cannot be made without some motive—” the herald began, when Gwaine strode suddenly forward and picked up the glove.

“I will act as champion for my King,” he announced, his eyes blazing.

“The tournament is no venue for such a fight—” the herald tried again, more angrily this time.

Gwaine turned to Arthur and the herald. “The tournament allows for personal challenges. I challenge Sir Bertilak to single combat. But as Sir Bertilak has announced an intention to do my King mortal harm, I will not hold back.” 

After a long pause, Arthur nodded. “Let them fight, if they’re both so determined,” he said to the herald in a tone of resignation. “If either of you should be killed in this fight,” he added to the combatants, “your death will be on your own head, since you insisted on this.”

“And after I have killed you,” Bertilak said to Gwaine, “my challenge to Arthur still stands.”

“Let’s see if you bleed green,” was all Gwaine replied as he pulled on his helmet.

The two knights were well-matched and had not fought one another yet, so they spent the first couple of minutes feeling one another out. The entire stadium was on tenterhooks. They roared as Gwaine made the first full attack. Bertilak parried, and the fight was joined in earnest.

As many times as Gwaine swung his sword, Bertilak caught it on the iron-bound haft of his axe, and as many times as Bertilak swung the head of his axe, Gwaine side-stepped it. The crowd shouted with either fear or acclaim with every swing, but Anna doubted either of the knights heard it. They were concentrating entirely on one another. Neither had gotten in a full hit yet, and at the rate they were moving, they would both soon tire out.

But Bertilak had one disadvantage: he believed himself to be invulnerable. When he began to grow tired, he was less desperate to parry Gwaine’s attacks. At last, he moved a little bit too slowly, and Gwaine struck him in the shoulder, the blade cutting down between the pauldron and the gorget. Bertilak fell back in shock at the unexpected pain, momentarily distracted.

Gwaine pressed his advantage and swung again, knocking Bertilak’s axe out of the way and striking him several times. His swings seemed furious, almost wild, and when Bertilak managed to parry again, he easily caught Gwaine’s sword between the head and haft of his axe, pulling it out of Gwaine’s hands and throwing it through the air.

The crowd gasped, but it seemed Gwaine had wanted it to happen: in the moment that Bertilak paused after disarming his opponent, Gwaine grabbed the axe, moving with Bertilak’s own follow-through. He smoothly rolled the axe right out of Bertilak’s grasp, knocking him down with the haft in one quick movement. Bertilak hit the ground hard, momentarily winded, and Gwaine threw one foot down on his opponent’s chest, swinging the axe downward, straight at Bertilak’s throat.


	23. Chapter 23

The crowd gave a great gasp as Gwaine brought the axe blade down—and stopped it a bare inch from Bertilak’s neck.

“I would chop your head off for threatening my King, if it weren’t for the sensibilities of the ladies present,” he hissed. Bertilak stared up at him in alarm. “I spare your life,” Gwaine announced loudly, “on the condition that you never return to Arthur’s domains.”

“I enforce the decree,” Arthur confirmed.

“And I extend it to my own lands,” Gaheris added. “A man who would pick such an unfounded quarrel with his host deserves to be banished from all civilized lands.”

“Your horse and your belongings will be brought out to you from the castle,” Arthur added, “and you will be immediately escorted from Camelot. Guards!”

“Let us,” Elyan said as he and Percival stepped forward and pulled Bertilak to his feet.

“Oh, and one last thing,” Gwaine said, reaching forward and pulling off Bertilak’s now-dirtied sash. He turned and walked back toward the stands, the axe in one hand and the sash in the other. The crowd burst into loud shouts of acclaim—but Gwaine didn’t seem to hear.

Arthur, Gaheris and the herald conferred and decided it was as good a note as any to end a tournament on. Arthur called Gwaine forward to the stands.

“By your undefeated status in the morning’s bouts, and for your defeat of Sir Bertilak, we hereby declare you the champion of this tournament,” Gaheris declared. “Kneel, Sir Gwaine.”

The crowd cheered as Gwaine knelt, still holding the sash and axe. Guinevere placed over his shoulders a heavy golden livery collar. “Rise, Sir Gwaine, Champion of Camelot.” Gwaine rose and kissed her hand.

“Now the part I know will please you most,” she whispered with a twinkle in her eye, and announced, “Let us feast!”

Gwaine pressed his lips together in a smile at her sally, and accepted Arthur and Gaheris’s congratulations with courtesy—but it was clear his heart was not in it.

At the feast, the axe was hung on the wall over Gwaine’s chair. The Hall was filled with laughter and talk—but the person in whose honor they feasted didn’t join in. Gwaine sat in a brown study the whole night, only looking up when someone nearby called his name, and answering almost at random.

“Aren’t you going to go congratulate him?” Leon asked. It was after the meal and everyone—except Gwaine—was mingling. Leon had meandered down to the bottom of the hall and was chatting with Anna and Gaius.

Anna glanced up the hall at Gwaine. “I don’t know. He doesn’t seem… very happy about it.” In truth, Anna was hesitant to go up and speak to him—partly because he hadn’t sought her out at all since lunch, and partly because she felt out-of-place at the top of the hall and was worried someone would think her encroaching.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” Leon said, shaking his head. “Do you think he could be coming down with something?”

Anna didn’t think a sick man could defeat Bertilak as Gwaine had done, and said so.

“I suppose you’re right.” He offered her his arm. “Why don’t we go see if we can cheer him up.”

Anna hesitated for a moment, but took his arm and walked with him to the head of the hall. “Gwaine!” Leon called, and Gwaine looked up. “Another dance is about to start, and I’ve brought you a partner.”

“I don’t much feel like dancing,” Gwaine said calmly, not giving more than a glance at Anna.

Anna felt her face go red. Leon, however, wasn’t deterred. “If you’re not careful, someone else will snatch her away!”

“I think they have already,” Gwaine answered, staring steadily at Anna.

“Well, thank you!” Leon answered. “Anwen, may I have this dance?”

Anna nodded automatically, somewhat stunned. She walked with Leon over to the dance, and began moving through the steps automatically, her mind racing.

“Are you alright?” Anna looked up to find Leon staring down at her, concerned. “You look awfully pale.”

“I’m not feeling too well,” she answered.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Leon said, and escorted her gently from the dance floor. The dance closed behind them. Leon escorted her back to her seat and procured a drink of water for her.

“I’m fine, really,” she said at last. “Don’t miss out on the dancing on my account.”  
As Leon moved away, she looked back up the hall toward Gwaine and found his eye on her. The moment their eyes met he looked away again, his expression stone-cold.

000

Anna saw Gwaine leave the festivities soon after. She waited several minutes and then slipped out unobtrusively, heading toward his quarters. The door was shut when she reached it, and she knocked. She could hear Gwaine pacing inside, and he walked over the instant she knocked and opened the door. On seeing her, he walked over to the table by the window and picked up her favour, holding it out to her wordlessly.

She shut the door behind her, and took it from him. “Thank you.” Her voice sounded small, even to her ears.

“I believe this is yours, as well,” he said, holding out Bertilak’s sash.

Anna frowned at him. “No, it’s not.”

“Well, if you don’t want it back…” he shrugged and dropped it on the table. “You seem to be very generous with your… favors.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw you.” He perched on the edge of the table and crossed his arms, would-be casually. “In Bertilak’s tent—there was a gap in the side. Well you might blush,” he added as she felt her cheeks flame. “I hadn’t thought Bertilak was so attractive to the ladies.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Anna said quickly.

“Then what _was_ it like?”

“I was—playacting. To help a friend.”

“What friend?”

“I—” Anna suddenly realized the terrible bind she was in. There was no way she could explain the situation to Gwaine—the questions he would be sure to ask would bring him too close to the truth about Merlin. And she had promised not to let anyone know about his magic. To lead Gwaine even that close to the truth would be a betrayal--he might well figure it out. “I promised not to tell,” she answered weakly.

Gwaine snorted. “I’m sure. Can you at least explain _how_ your kissing Sir Bertilak was to help this friend?” When Anna opened and shut her mouth without answering, Gwaine gave a sardonic smile. “I thought not.”

“Have I ever given you a reason to doubt my honor?” she asked, hurt. “If I give you my word that it meant nothing, can’t you trust me?”

But it was clear from his expression that the answer was no. “It was pretty clear, from where I was standing, that it meant _something_. Well, I used to think _Guinevere_ was the most loyal woman I knew—and she betrayed Arthur. I suppose I really shouldn’t have been surprised by _your_ behavior.”

Anna was suddenly furiously angry. “You talk about me being unfaithful, but you won’t even trust me! I thought you, of all people, would understand keeping one’s word to one’s friends. And this is Gwaine the Chivalrous, Gwaine the Faithful, Gwaine the Ladies’ Knight!” she flung at him. “I thought you knew me better—I thought I knew you better.”

She turned on her heel and marched out the door, slamming it behind her.

000

“Ah, there you are,” Gaius said as Anna walked into the surgery. He and Merlin were seated at the table, talking over the day’s events. He looked down at the white and scarlet favour which she still held. “I take it you’ve been to see a certain champion,” he twinkled.

Anna began gathering up her things without answering. “Is Gwaine alright?” Merlin asked. “He was so quiet at the feast—I thought maybe Bertilak had hurt him more than he let on. That axe is pretty heavy, after all.”

“As far as I’m concerned,” Anna said viciously, “he can sit on that axe and _twist_.” She marched out of the room as Gaius and Merlin stared after her.

“What was _that?_ ” Merlin asked. Gaius shrugged, wide-eyed.

Anna hurried home, gulping back tears, hoping that she would get to the privacy of her house before the flood began.

Up in his room, Gwaine sat staring at the heavily embroidered green sash before him. Finally, he picked it up and flung it into the fire. As the flames consumed it, a penny fell, unregarded, to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me FOREVER for find the name for a livery collar. Thank God for Google.  
>  **Please review!**


	24. Chapter 24

Merlin left the surgery the next morning before Anna arrived—an unusual occurrence; she was usually an early riser. In fact, the first time he saw her all day was just before luncheon. He was coming in from the practice field with Arthur, Gaheris and the knights of both kingdoms, and Anna was coming from the opposite direction.

Gwaine and Percival were walking side-by-side, chatting. The two of them glanced up at the same time and caught sight of Anna—whereupon Gwaine immediately began joking loudly about something that had happened on the practice field that morning. Anna, who had looked at him shyly at first, turned bright red and then white as he passed her by, not even glancing in her direction. Percival, who had tried to acknowledge her presence with a smile and nod, stared at his friend, whose forced gaiety had diminished as soon as Anna was far enough away.

“That was Anna,” Percival hinted weakly.

“Oh? I didn’t notice,” Gwaine answered with unconcern, and changed the subject.

Anna herself wasn’t any more forthcoming. Merlin ran an errand up to the surgery in the afternoon and found her by herself. Usually when she had Gaius’s surgery to herself, Anna organized or cleaned something. Instead, Merlin found her sitting at the table, staring into space. The moment he walked in, however, she stood up and began rearranging the bottles on one of the shelves.

He tried the direct approach. “How are you?”

“Fine.” Her tone was calm, but she didn’t look at him.

“Have you spoken with Gwaine this morning?”

She almost dropped one of the bottles. “No,” she answered quietly, and turned her back toward him more fully.

Merlin didn’t want to poke at an open wound, so he said no more. He met Gaius coming in as he was leaving a few minutes later, and as the door closed he heard Gaius exclaim, “Anna, where is the valerian root? How did these shelves get so disarranged?”

000

Merlin was not the only one to notice Gwaine and Anna’s behavior. Percival broached the subject at dinner that night.

It was not the kind of feast they had had the night before, but as Gaheris was still visiting, the knights and the very upper echelons of Camelot society were there. If anything, Gwaine was livelier than usual, laughing loudly at jokes and making many jesting comments at his friends’ expense. But a couple of times when the conversation lagged Percival saw him fall into a brown study, staring into space and completely ignoring his food.

“So,” Percival said, nudging Gwaine. Gwaine jumped. “How’s Anna today?”

“I don’t know.” Gwaine picked up his spoon.

“You don’t know? Haven’t you talked to her all day?”

“No.”

“I think if I’d just won a tournament, I’d be spending a lot of time with my sweetheart—local hero, and all that,” Percival teased with a smile.

“Look.” Gwaine put his spoon down with a bang. “If you’re so interested in how Anna is, why don’t you ask her yourself? Or maybe you should get your own girlfriend—give you something else to think about besides other people’s business.”

The two of them suddenly realized how quiet the room had become, and looked up to find most of the people seated nearest them staring in their direction. “Sorry,” Gwaine muttered, and picked up his spoon again. Conversation resumed, and a few minutes later, he left the room, his meal only half finished.

“What’s wrong with him?” Leon asked Percival in a low voice.

“I don’t know. I think he and Anna must have had a fight.”

Leon frowned. “That doesn’t sound like _either_ of them.”

Percival shrugged. “He seems pretty sensitive about it—I don’t want to press the issue.”

Leon nodded. “I guess we’d just better keep an eye on him.”

000

Gaius and Merlin undertook the same agenda in regards to Anna. Merlin caught up with her the next afternoon. 

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Anna sighed. “Not really,” she admitted. “Gwaine and I—”

“I know.” Everybody knew, but he didn’t say that. It had spread all over the castle that Anna and Gwaine had broken up, and though there was plenty of conjecture, no one knew for sure why they had done so. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Her face spasmed a little, and she turned away. “Not really,” she said at last, her voice low.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked awkwardly. She shook her head, and soon after walked away. 

000

Over the course of the next week, while King Gaheris was once more feasted and returned to his lands, there was no visible change in Gwaine and Anna’s behavior. Anna went about her work more quietly than usual and Gwaine alternated between sullenness and forced gaiety.

When reports of Saxon activity to the east reached Camelot and Arthur decided he and a few of the knights should investigate, more than one person in the castle breathed a sigh of relief. Anna still hadn’t told Merlin what she and Gwaine had fought over, and he hadn’t had a chance to get Gwaine alone since it had happened—he hoped that he would have a chance on this trip. He was accompanying Arthur as usual. For her part, Anna seemed almost glad that she wouldn’t be running into Gwaine in the corridors for the next few days. They had both taken to studiously ignoring one another and attempting to ignore other people’s significant glances.

Anna came down to the courtyard the morning they left, ostensibly to see Merlin off.

“Take care of yourself,” she told him.

“You, too.” He looked her over—she wasn’t looking so well. Her face was pale, and her cheeks were suspiciously red. Maybe it was embarrassment—Gwaine had walked right past her a minute before and completely ignored her, and a couple of the kitchen maids had begun whispering a short distance away.

Whatever the problem was between them, Merlin decided as they saddled up and rode out of Camelot, he would get it out of Gwaine. The sooner, the better.


	25. Chapter 25

Merlin had a chance to speak with Gwaine earlier than he thought. While they were still relatively close to Camelot, Merlin noticed Gwaine riding in the back of the company, and fell back until he was riding next to him. He half expected Arthur to call him back up toward the front of their little cavalcade, but Arthur let him be—perhaps he had noticed him heading toward Gwaine and hoped Merlin’s talk with him would improve his knight’s attitude.

Merlin was afraid at first that Gwaine would be as mum on the subject as Anna. But there was nothing for it but to try, so as soon as they had fallen back far enough and the other knights were chatting noisily enough to make their conversation more private, he went ahead and broached the topic.

“I don’t mean to pry, and I know it’s none of my business, but… things don’t seem so great between you and Anna.”

Gwaine snorted at the understatement. “Where did you get that idea?”

“What happened between you two?”

Gwaine sighed. “I—” He shook his head. “Never mind.”

“No, really.”

Gwaine looked at him consideringly. “At the tournament, right before the second half started,” he said at last, dropping his voice and falling back a little more from the others, “I saw her go into Bertilak’s tent.” He said the name with distaste. “I walked over to it, and found a gap in the flaps. She was flirting with him, and he mentioned her coming on to him the night before. She tied his sash onto him, and he kissed her. And she let him.” He swallowed, staring hard between his horse’s ears. “Are you surprised I broke it off with her?”

Merlin’s horse snorted, and he realized he was pulling on the reins. He relaxed his hands. “Did you ask her about it?” he asked quietly.

“What was there to ask?” Gwaine said bitterly. “I saw everything. I told her what I’d seen, and she didn’t even try to deny it. She tried to tell me she was doing it for a friend.”

“That sounds more like her than—than cheating on you,” Merlin suggested.

“But how could her kissing Bertilak _possibly_ be helping a friend?” Gwaine insisted. “It makes no sense, and she refused to explain—because there is no explanation. We’d better keep up,” he said, nodding toward the rest of the group, which was now some way ahead of them, and urging his horse into a quick trot.

Merlin followed him, but his mind was far away. _That_ was why Anna wouldn’t tell him anything about her argument with Gwaine—because it was helping _him_ that had caused it in the first place, and she hadn’t wanted to make him feel bad. She had kept her word to him and kept his secret, and it had separated her from the man she loved. Merlin felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach. Two of his closest friends were in misery, and it was because of him and his secret.

He simultaneously wished Gaius were there and was thankful he wasn’t. He thought he knew what Gaius would say: Let it be. Leave it alone, keep the magic secret. But the very thought of leaving Anna and Gwaine’s situation as it was when he could fix it made him feel sick to his stomach.

But there was serious danger in telling Gwaine. Not that Gwaine would ever be unfaithful. But unfaithful to whom? He was a Knight of Camelot now, sworn to protect the people and his king—his friend—and uphold its laws. And its laws were pretty clear on the subject of magic.

But still, he couldn’t imagine Gwaine turning him over. He wished there were some other way than splitting Gwaine’s loyalties between himself and Arthur—he wished his own loyalties weren’t split that way. But there was no other course of action he could reconcile with his conscience. He would have to tell Gwaine.

000

His chance came the next evening as they were setting up camp for the night. As Merlin started off into the woods on his usual duty of firewood-gathering, Arthur called, “Merlin, wait. Gwaine, why don’t you go with him? We’re close enough to the reported Saxon activity that I don’t want to send anybody off alone.”

Gwaine got up immediately and followed Merlin into the woods. Merlin wordlessly led him a good distance away from the campsite toward a clearing on a rise. Unlike some knights, Gwaine didn’t stand by with his hand on his sword looking bored, but silently helped Merlin to gather up wood as they went.

“We’re getting a bit far, aren’t we?” Gwaine said at last as they reached the hill. “I think we should move closer to camp.”

Merlin turned to face him. “Actually, I—need to talk to you.”

Gwaine sighed. “Merlin, if this is about Anna—”

“It’s not. It’s about me.”

Gwaine saw the expression on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“I…”

“Merlin, whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Merlin swallowed hard. “I—have magic.”

Gwaine stared at him for a moment, then laughed. “What?”

“I have magic.”

Gwaine frowned at him. “Magic.”

“Yes.”

“As in…”

Merlin’s eyes flashed gold and the top log from Merlin’s armful floated up into the air, bobbed gently over his head a couple of times, and dropped softly back into his arms.

Gwaine was staring at him, and Merlin felt a little breathless. “Please—please don’t tell Arthur,” he said quietly. 

Gwaine looked at him, frowning, then dropped his armful of firewood on the ground. Merlin gulped and took half a step back as Gwaine walked forward, took the firewood out of his arms, and threw it aside as well.

“Gwaine, please—”

And Gwaine stepped forward and pulled Merlin into a hug.


	26. Chapter 26

Merlin stiffened for a moment with surprise, then dropped his forehead onto Gwaine’s shoulder and bunched his fists into his hauberk. “How long have you been carrying this by yourself?” Gwaine asked gently, and Merlin clung to him, relieved to drop his façade of strength for once.

They stood like that for a minute in silence as Merlin’s shoulders shook. Finally Gwaine stepped back, though he kept one hand on Merlin’s shoulder as Merlin wiped his face with his sleeve. “Why didn’t you tell me before?” he asked, his voice still gentle.

“I’m sorry, I—” Merlin gulped. “It’s so dangerous a secret, for anybody I tell. It could get them killed, and I didn’t want to put you in danger for my sake. And Gaius—would have been disappointed. He’s always told me to keep it secret. Besides,” he added, clearing his throat now that his tears had stopped, “I didn’t want to put you in the position of having to choose between loyalty to me and loyalty to Arthur.”

“So what changed?” Gwaine asked shrewdly.

“Anna knows.”

Gwaine’s face immediately became blank. “Mm,” he said noncommittally, picking up his firewood again. 

“No, Gwaine, listen. She figured it out, the night Bergam and Cranog attacked me, and she’s helped me a couple of times since. I realized before the tournament that Bertilak was using magic.” He had Gwaine’s attention now. “I thought at first it was his axe that was enchanted, and I sneaked down into the armory to test my theory. Turned out I was wrong, and Bertilak caught me. He was threatening to—well, I don’t think he would have actually _killed_ me, but I thought I was at least going to end up like I did with Bergam and Cranog again. Anna saved me—she stumbled up and acted like she was drunk and I had come down to the armory to find her and repair her damage. She flirted with Bertilak a little to get his attention off of me, and then we escaped. I realized it was Bertilak’s sash that was enchanted, and I had to get him to take it off.”

“The wine at luncheon…”

Merlin nodded. “He took it off to let it dry, and I stole it out of his tent. I was about to put it back, but Arthur insisted I help him with his armor—so Anna volunteered to sneak it back into Bertilak’s tent. Only Bertilak was back in his tent already. You know better than me what happened there, but she _did_ tell me that she managed to find an excuse to put the sash on him so he wouldn’t notice what I had done to it to disenchant it.” He put a hand on Gwaine’s arm. “Gwaine, when she said she was helping a friend, she wasn’t lying. She was helping _me_. And Arthur—if Bertilak had worn that sash when he fought Arthur, he would have killed him. Arthur would have been powerless to stop him. She said—she said that it was all to save a friend, and that you would understand.”

Gwaine dropped his gaze, frowning. After a moment of silence, Merlin looked around. “It’s getting pretty dark.” He picked up his armful of firewood again. “We should probably head back to camp.”

“ _There_ you are!” Arthur exclaimed as they walked back to the group. “Leon, I thought you said they were almost done when you checked on them! Come on Merlin, let’s get this fire going and get some supper. I’m famished.”

Gwaine was almost silent throughout dinner. The other knights, thinking he was still upset about whatever had happened with Anna, left him alone, for which he was thankful. He had a lot to process. Merlin with magic—well, he had to admit that it explained some things. How Merlin always seemed to know what was going on before anyone else figured it out, how he knew that those two thugs had enchanted blades at the _last_ tournament he had won, how Merlin had managed to get past those wyverns on his own in the Fisher King’s castle despite his lack of any weapons—how Merlin managed to not get killed in a _number_ of fights, come to think of it. That had always puzzled him, and Arthur’s flippant comments that Merlin just ran and hid had never seemed quite right. Turned out the only thing Merlin was hiding was how well he was fighting—with magic.

He jumped as Leon sat down next to him. “I saw you and Merlin earlier,” he said. “Up on the hill.” Gwaine felt himself tense—what if Leon had heard them? “I just wanted to make sure you’re both alright,” Leon continued, and Gwaine relaxed.

“Yeah—yeah, we’re fine. Thanks.”

Leon smiled and got up again, taking Gwaine’s empty bowl over to Merlin. Good old Leon—always taking care of everybody else, like a big, handsome mother hen. But if he _had_ heard anything, Gwaine was sure of what Leon would do next: tell Arthur. No questions asked. Leon was Arthur’s man, a faithful, law-abiding, by-the-book sort of knight. He would have considered it a point of loyalty. Gwaine suddenly realized exactly what Merlin meant when he had said he had wanted to spare him a division of loyalties. 

High treason—that’s what such a secret was, by the laws of Camelot. The thought of what he was keeping from Arthur, of what Arthur and Leon and the other knights, and even Gwen, would think of him if they found out—it hurt more than he had thought it would. Time as a loyal knight had washed away some of his former devil-may-care attitude toward law and fealty. He wondered if Merlin felt like this all the time. Poor kid. 

But he was sure that whatever else Merlin was, he was loyal to Arthur. Even if he was technically breaking Arthur’s laws, if Gwaine knew anything about Merlin, he knew he was using his magic to help him. He might be committing treason according to the letter of the law, but he was doing the opposite in spirit. Merlin, like Leon was loyal—it was only the legality of magic that made the difference. Leon didn’t have magic that he could use to help Arthur. Merlin did. And Merlin used whatever he had to hand to help. Gwaine was on Merlin’s side on this: he was loyal to Arthur, and would help Merlin use any good means possible to help him, even if Arthur didn’t like those means.

Just like Anna had done. Gwaine rubbed his forehead. If Merlin was right, and he had no reason to doubt him, Anna had used what she could to help—to protect Arthur, and as it turned out, himself. It made sense—at least, Anna pretending to flirt with Bertilak made more sense than her actually cheating on him. She had been right; it wasn’t in character. And there was what Bertilak had said about her coming on to him drunkenly the night before: Anna never drank enough to be drunk, and Gwaine himself had walked Anna home the night before. She had been stone sober.

But was it really necessary for him to let her kiss him? Did she really have to do all that flirting?

_I’m coming at this from the wrong direction_ , he thought. He was assuming her guilt instead of her innocence. What if he took Merlin’s explanation at face value?

Bertilak caught Merlin in the armory with the axe: he needed some sort of excuse for being down there. Anna pretended to be drunk, giving him an excuse. She needed to distract Bertilak—what better way than by flirting? Plus, it seemed in-character for drunkenness. Then, with that foundation, she walks into Bertilak’s tent while he’s there to surreptitiously return his sash. She would need some excuse for coming in, and the flirting the night before was a good one. Plus, it gave her a chance, as Merlin had said, to put the sash onto Bertilak herself. Having done that, she could hardly _refuse_ the kiss and still stay in character. It would have been suspicious.

It did indeed all add up. And just because she had let him kiss her didn’t mean she had enjoyed it. She had done it to save a friend, and had done so in good faith, assuming that if Gwaine did know the truth, he would trust her to do the right thing in the name of friendship.

And he had let her down. It was no wonder she had thrown his supposed faithfulness and chivalry in his face like that. She had acted for a friend, she had submitted to a kiss from a brute for a friend, she had kept a secret for a friend, and he, who valued friendship above all else, had mistrusted her and refused to listen.

Well, he had a chance to make it right. As soon as they got back to Camelot, he was going to sit down with her and apologize. He only hoped she would accept it.

Gwaine looked up to find Leon smiling at him across the campfire. The clearing was surprisingly quiet, and Gwaine realized that all the others had turned in for the night: Leon was taking first watch.

“Do you plan to sleep tonight?” Leon asked quietly, with a twinkle in his eyes.

Gwaine grinned, the first smile he hadn’t had to force in days. “Yes, I think I’ll sleep well tonight.”

000

Gwaine had his chance to apologize sooner than he thought he might. The trip only took a few days; Arthur and the knights discovered that the Saxon bands had moved east again and the villagers in that part of the kingdom had set better watches and armed themselves. The knights made sure they could defend their homes, and then turned back toward Camelot.

Gwaine’s comrades had noticed the change in him since the second night. His forced cheer had gone, as had his irritability. He was quieter than usual, pensive, but no longer angry. He also volunteered to accompany Merlin on firewood-gathering every night. They figured Merlin had talked some sense into him: what they didn’t realize was that Gwaine was grilling him on the details of his magic use and his former adventures.

“So you can just move things by wanting to?” Gwaine asked. “What does it feel like?”

Merlin was grinning; he had been fielding these questions from Gwaine for days. “It tingles just a little—but I’m used to it.”

“Is it difficult?”

“It’s actually harder _not_ to use it than to use it. Gaius figured out that I had magic the first week I was in Camelot when he knocked a bucket of water off the table and I automatically caught the water in midair. I had to train myself not to do that sort of thing.” He grimaced. “It’s much harder when it happens in Arthur’s chambers, because I know I’m going to have to clean it up myself later.”

“Have you ever cleaned Arthur’s chambers with magic?”

“No, but I won’t say the temptation hasn’t been strong.” He smiled sheepishly. “I have cleaned Arthur’s _things_ in _my_ room with magic, however.”

Gwaine laughed. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m almost hoping we get attacked by someone before we get home, just so I can try to catch a glimpse of you fighting with magic. I would love to see that.”

Merlin groaned. “Don’t jinx us. It’s really hard to fight with magic without being seen.”

Luckily, Merlin didn’t have to try: they reached Camelot the next afternoon without any mishaps.

Gwaine had forgotten his wish for action. Instead, he was imagining a reunion with Anna. Maybe she would be waiting for him in the courtyard. He would have to take her someplace more private for the conversation, of course. He would explain, apologize… What would be her reaction? Would she be stiff, grudging? Would she make him beg? Would she tease him?

The instant they rode into the courtyard he was looking around for her face. He didn’t see him among the onlookers, and he dismounted, handing his reins to the stablehand.

“Llio, have you seen Anna?” he asked, snagging the first maid that walked by.

Llio’s eyes grew large. “Oh, Sir, you haven’t heard!”

He frowned. “Haven’t heard what?”

“Anna is dying, Sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bwa ha ha ha  
> Sorry for all the recap of the tournament goings-on in this chapter, but I wanted to depict Gwaine’s thought process.  
> This chapter is a milestone: at 26 chapters, this is now my single longest fic, beating out the 25-chapter “All Who See These Times”. Of course, that was part of the [Katie Chronicles](http://www.fanfiction.net/~jennyjoy4), which are 104 chapters in total. But, y’know… still a milestone. :P  
> Please review!


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Missed a scene in this chapter. It has been added to the end, as of June 9th 2013.

“GWAINE!”

Gwaine was already across the courtyard, pelting up the stairs two and a time and heading for Gaius’s tower. Merlin threw his reins to a stablehand and flew after him.

“What’s going on?” Percival asked, jogging over.

“Gwaine just got some bad news,” Arthur said worriedly.

Gaius was alone in the surgery when Gwaine threw the door open. They stared at one another for a moment, Gwaine so winded and completely shocked he couldn’t say a word. Luckily, Gaius knew immediately what was going on.

“It’s alright,” he said, stepping forward. “Her fever broke an hour ago. I expect her to make a full recovery.”

Merlin came in the door just in time to see Gwaine’s knees buckle and to whisk a stool under him. Gaius gave him a stern glance for using magic so indiscreetly, but Gwaine, who had his face buried in his hands, didn’t seem to have noticed.

“What happened?” Merlin asked, breathless.

“She came down with a fever the day you left. It didn’t seem so bad at first, but her condition worsened rapidly. I won’t lie; I worried for her life. But her fever has now broken, and she is resting.” He gestured toward Merlin’s room. 

They both looked down at Gwaine, who was only now beginning to show signs of life. Gaius poured him out a shot of liquor, which he drank wordlessly. “Can I see her?” he asked at last, his voice hoarse.

“She’s resting…” Gaius said hesitantly.

“Please, Gaius.” Gwaine’s face was white. “I won’t wake her, I promise. Please.”

Gaius nodded at last, and Gwaine climbed to his feet and walked over to Merlin’s door, moving like he’d aged thirty years in five minutes.

Anna lay very still, turned a little away from the door. She was so still, stiller than Gwaine had ever seen her. Her face was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes, and if Gaius hadn’t told him she was out of danger he would have been terrified. Trying hard not to make any noise and not to let his sword or chainmail clink, he sat down in the chair by her bed.

The shock of what had so nearly happened turned his limbs to water. If she had died, and died believing that he didn’t love her or trust her, that he thought her guilty of unfaithfulness… He couldn’t bear that. He stared down at her still face, her fingers curled up by her cheek. He wished she would wake up right then, so that he could explain to her, could hold her…

He didn’t know how long he had sat there, but at last the door opened and Gaius glanced in. Gwaine rose and followed him back into the surgery.

“Where’s Merlin?” he asked. He realized his voice was hoarse, and cleared his throat.

“He had to go and see to Arthur,” Gaius answered. “And you should probably go clean up, too.”

000

Merlin had jogged back down to Arthur’s chambers after promising to look in on Anna later. Arthur was waiting for him impatiently.

“Sorry—” Merlin began.

“How is she?” Arthur interrupted. Merlin realized that Leon and Gwen were with him, and all three of them looked concerned.

“Gaius says her fever’s broken, and she’s going to be fine.”

Leon and Gwen both breathed a sigh of relief.

“Last I knew it was looking grim,” Gwen commented. “I’m glad she’s pulled through.”

“Gaius said you helped when you were able,” Merlin said. “Thank you.”

“How’s Gwaine?” Leon asked.

“Pretty shaken up, but I think he’ll be alright.”

“Really alright, or as ‘alright’ as he was for the first week after the tournament?”

Merlin smiled. “Really alright, I think.”

000

He checked on Anna as soon as he got back to the surgery in the evening. She was awake, and smiled up at him sleepily.

“Merlin. You’re back.”

He said down on the edge of the bed and took her hand. “All back and in one piece.”

“And everyone else?”

“They’re all fine. We had no trouble with the Saxons.”

Anna breathed a sigh of relief.

“What about you? How are you feeling?”

“Better. I’m glad you’re back.”

Merlin wanted very baldy to tell her that Gwaine was now in on the secret, but Gaius had warned him straitly not to say anything that might agitate her. “She’s better, but her health is still delicate,” he warned.

And in fact, he denied Gwaine access to her the next day. In his concern for her health Gwaine took this meekly, but was practically bursting by the next morning.

Merlin elected to wait until Anna was awake before going down to Arthur’s chambers. “I have something I need to tell you,” he told her. She tensed up and her eyes, which looked bigger than usual because of the dark lines under them, grew even larger. Merlin suddenly understood why Gaius had been worried about giving her any alarm. “It’s alright,” he assured her quickly. “It’s good news. I told Gwaine. About my magic.”

Anna stared at him, frowning. “You told Gwaine.”

“Yes. And I explained about Bertilak and the sash.”

“Oh, Merlin, you shouldn’t have done that!”

“No, I’m glad I did,” he insisted. “Gwaine is one of my closest friends. Maybe I should have told him a long time ago.” He took a deep breath. “And he’s going to come this morning to see you.” They both looked up at the sound of the surgery door opened, and Gaius’s muffled voice.

Merlin looked down at Anna. She looked worried. “You don’t have to see him if you don’t want to,” he offered.

“No.” She shook herself. “I want to.”

Merlin went to the door and beckoned to Gwaine, then made himself scarce.

Gwaine’s heart was in his throat as he stepped forward into Merlin’s room. Anna stared at him apprehensively from the bed, looking far smaller and more delicate than he was used to seeing her. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out: now that he was face-to-face with her, all his carefully-prepared speeches had disappeared.

Anna dropped her gaze to her lap, and suddenly Gwaine was across the room, kneeling beside her bed, apologizing.

“Anna, I’m so sorry. You were right; I should have trusted you. Merlin explained it all, and I understand now—only he shouldn’t have had to explain. I should have trusted you from the start. And I do—I mean, I do now. You deserve so much better than the way I treated you.” He realized she had begun to cry, and it alarmed him almost more than anything else had done so far. “Oh God, Annie, don’t cry, I’m so sorry—please—”

She sobbed once and threw herself into his arms.

000

When Anna had finished crying (to be fair, Gwaine’s eyes weren’t entirely dry either) and saying several times each that they loved each other, Gwaine said, “I take it then that you forgive me?”

Anna laughed through her tears and wiped at her face. Gwaine handed her a rag from the beside table. “Of course,” she said. “You had plenty of reason to suspect me: the evidence was pretty damning. And maybe I _didn’t_ need to kiss Bertilak—”

“You did what you had to do,” he interrupted her. “Though I wouldn’t object if you never had to do it again!”

“Me either. Eugh,” she agreed, pulling a face. They sat in silence for a moment, and then she looked at him solemnly. 

“I want you to promise me something,” she said.

“Anything.”

“You need to hear what it is, first.” She took a deep breath. “I kept a secret from you for a friend, and it drove us apart. So—no more secrets. If we trust each other, we should _trust_ each other. I want us to have an understanding, that we keep secrets _together_ , not _from_ each other.” She extended her hand. “Agreed?”

He shook it equally solemnly. “No more secrets,” he agreed. “What I know, you will know.”

“Good.” Anna scrunched down in the bed and blinked sleepily.

“And what I know,” Gwaine continued, smiling faintly, “is that Gaius is going to come in that door any moment and tell me that I shouldn’t fatigue you any more. And he’s right.” He pulled her blankets up. “Go to sleep, now.”

“Yes, mother,” Anna grumbled good-naturedly. 

Gwaine laughed and kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll come by again tomorrow,” he promised, and left her to her rest.


	28. Chapter 28

“Gaius, you’re needed immediately in the guest quarters!” a soldier called outside the door.

“This late?” Gaius groaned. 

Anna, who had her cloak on and was about to leave for the night, opened the door. “What is it, Deiniol?”

“Princess Mithian has arrived,” Deiniol answered, a little out of breath. “She seems to have ridden all day, and collapsed when she arrived.”

Anna, home forgotten, began gathering up supplies and Gaius hurried after Deiniol to examine his patient. He and Merlin met at the guest room just as Leon was bringing Mithian in, and Anna came in soon after with some of Gaius’s supplies.

“If it were up to me,” Merlin was saying to an older woman, who clung to his sleeve.

“Please!” she begged.

“Gaius?”

“Very well; make yourself comfortable,” he said to her. Anna deposited Gaius’s bag by the bed and went to fetch the older woman, whom she took for Mithian’s attendant, something to eat and drink from the kitchens.

Gaius soon had Mithian looking better and eating a bite of stew. “I would like her monitored during the night,” he added to Anna.

“I can do that,” the waiting-woman, Hilda, volunteered.

“Oh, no, you will need rest as well,” Gaius said. “Anna can very well stay with her tonight.”

“I will not be able to sleep a wink knowing that my darling might be unwell,” Hilda insisted, gazing adoringly at her charge, who looked back expressionlessly. Anna wondered momentarily if she were more exhausted than Gaius had realized. Mithian turned and seemed to see Anna’s eyes on her, at which she snuggled down under the blankets and closed her eyes.

“Very well,” Gaius acceded at last. “Anna?”

“I’ll clean up here,” she agreed, and he said goodnight to his patient.

“I take it you are the Princess’s nurse?” Anna said to Hilda as he left, making small talk while she cleared away Gaius’s supplies.

“Yes—I have nursed her from a babe,” Hilda said, throwing another tender look at her charge.

“I am surprised you didn’t accompany her to Camelot on her earlier visit,” Anna observed, folding an unneeded blanket.

“I was unwell at that time,” Hilda said quickly, “or I would have. I did enjoy her stories of the diversions she had with Arthur,” she continued after a moment. “Especially her prowess in the hunt. My Mithian was always a great sportswoman.” Her eyes gleamed.

Anna smiled politely and said goodnight.

She caught up with Gaius in the corridor, just as he was being hailed by Leon. “How is she?” he asked, hurrying up.

“She’s weak, but I sent Merlin to tell Arthur that he could question her in the morning. As long as he’s gentle. I don’t know what happened to her, but it must have been an ordeal.”

Leon looked concerned. “I will make sure there is a chair placed for her in the Council Chamber tomorrow.”

He also volunteered to escort Mithian to the meeting the next morning. When he knocked on the door, it was opened by Hilda.

“How kind, Sir Leon,” Hilda said and turned to fetch Mithian. Leon wondered for a moment how Hilda knew his name, and then realized she must have heard Gaius call him by it the night before.

Mithian was as gracious and regal as she had been the night before, but it was obvious she was in a frail condition. She leaned on his arm more than usual, and was uncharacteristically quiet when Leon tried to make small talk. However, she smiled gratefully up at him when he helped her to her seat in the Council Chamber. Hilda, whom he had escorted on the other arm, he helped to another chair on the side of the room.

His heart was wrung as he watched Mithian tell how she had escaped from Odin’s men, how her father was wounded and hiding in the forest. He was glad that Arthur agreed to help King Rodor, but was a bit worried at Mithian’s ability to travel so far so soon. But if Gaius said she would be fit, he believed him. The rescue mission was certainly not without its perils—but he trusted Arthur. And if one king would not help another in his time of need, what was the point of having allies? Once Rodor was rescued and safe in Camelot, they could plan a way to fight off Odin and his men and restore Rodor to the throne of Nemeth.

The day was spent in making plans and gathering supplies. And it was a long day, too: Leon had patrol for the first few hours that night, just as he had the night before. 

“You know you could trade off with someone,” Sir Raynelle reminded him as they paced along the wall of the castle. “Sagramor doesn’t have night duty for another three weeks; I’m sure he’d give you a break so you can get some rest before tomorrow.”

“No, no,” Leon said, waving away the suggestion. “I’m not complaining. Sagramor will have enough night duties in his life.”

“Look—there,” Raynelle said suddenly, pointing up to a window in the guest quarters. A raven was perched on the windowsill. “I didn’t realize there were ravens in Camelot.”

“There didn’t use to be, but I’ve seen them a few times the last year or two,” Leon answered. “I’m wondering if we have a nesting pair.”

The raven flew away toward the north. “We follow that path in the morning,” Leon said quietly.

“Do you always get this poetic on night patrol?” Raynelle grinned at him.

Leon laughed. “Watch it, Raynelle.”

000

The rest of the patrol passed without incident, and Leon headed through the castle toward his quarters at a very late hour. As he was nearing the gallery, he heard what sounded like voices, and a woman crying out. Hurrying around the corner, he saw two figures: one in black leaning menacingly over one in white. The symbolism of it struck him with forboding for a moment, and then he saw it was Hilda, leaning over Mithian.

“Princess Mithian! Are you alright?” he asked, rushing forward. Hilda gently raised her to her feet. “Your Highness?”

Hilda answered for her. “The Princess was feeling a little faint, that’s all,” she said calmly. Mithian kept her face averted, her arms wrapped around herself as if she were cold, or in pain. Leon saw that she was hunched over, holding herself together. “We were just getting some air.”

“Can I get you something, Your Highness?” Leon asked, addressing Mithian exclusively. “Perhaps Gaius—”

“I’m sure Gaius needs his sleep for tomorrow,” Hilda said quickly. 

Leon still waited for Mithian to answer. “I’m feeling much better, thank you,” she said at last with a brief smile, though she did not make eye contact with him, which was uncharacteristic.

“We won’t detain you any further, Sir Leon,” Hilda said. “We will all be needing our sleep for tomorrow. Good night.”

“Good night, Your Highness, Hilda,” he answered, and watched them walk away, Hilda supporting Mithian, whose walk seemed strangely wooden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I discovered that Hulu has Merlin (yaaaay!!) though not season five (argh!). I had to rewatch [this episode](http://www.zzstream.li/2012/10/merlin-season-5-episode-4-anothers-sorrow.html) repeatedly to write this chapter, so thankfully I found that zzstream.li has Merlin episodes (yaaaay!!).   
> **Please review!**


	29. Chapter 29

By the time Leon reached the courtyard in the morning, Mithian was already mounted up, entirely at home on her horse. Gaius had been right; she looked perfectly well for the journey. Hilda, on the other hand, needed help getting onto her own horse, and he and Gwaine stepped over to give her a hand.

As they rode toward Nemeth, Leon was amazed all over again at the ride Mithian and Hilda had made, across all this land alone, part of the ride in the pitch dark. But he remembered, with a smile, the prowess the Princess had displayed on the hunting field, both on horseback and with a crossbow. She was possessed, not only of a delicate beauty, but of strength and fire. It was sad she was so quiet, so constrained, just now. But he hoped that with her father safe, she would regain her customary cheer.

The day’s ride was uneventful, and at nightfall they camped in some ruins, hanging up their cloaks to separate off a well protected area for the ladies. There was a slight stir during supper when Hilda had a sudden attack of pain, but Gaius examined her and proclaimed her fit to journey on in the morning. Gwaine caught Merlin’s sleeve as he passed.

“You look concerned,” he said in an undertone.

“Something’s not right with Mithian and Hilda,” Merlin answered. “Some about them just doesn’t add up. Mithian has a burn she didn’t tell anyone about, Hilda’s obviously in pain but has no discernible health problems and the heart of someone decades younger, and the two of them just seem… constrained when they’re together. Gaius keeps coming up with possible reasons for everything but…” He shook his head. “I don’t know. I just think something’s wrong.”

Gwaine looked over at where Hilda and Mithian were sitting side-by-side in silence. “I guess we’d better keep our eyes out, hm?”

“Let’s turn in for the night,” Arthur announced. “Gwaine, you take first watch.”

000

“Merlin! MERLIN! Drat him, where did he go?” Arthur fumed. It was morning, and everyone was ready to go—everyone, that is, except Merlin.

“I thought I saw him head down toward the stream,” Gwaine said: “I’ll get him.”

As he neared the stream he thought he could here a raised voice. “Down here!” Gwaine jogged down to the bank to find Merlin lying prone beneath a tree, with Hilda standing over him.

“Merlin!”

“He must have slipped on the rocks,” she said as Gwaine ran forward to check for a pulse. To his relief, he found one.

“Percival!” he shouted, and in a minute, Percy came running down to the bank. “Let’s get him up to Gaius.”

Back at the campsite, Gwaine helped Percival to deposit Merlin safely on a piece of fallen building, cradling Merlin’s head in his lap as Gaius fetched some blankets to pillow him.

“What happened?” Arthur was a picture of concern.

“He must have fallen. He’s taken a heavy blow to the head,” Gaius answered, checking him over.

“But he’ll be alright?”

“Yes. But there’s no telling when he’ll regain consciousness.”

Arthur stood thinking for a moment. “We can’t wait for him. Gwaine, you stay here with Gaius and Merlin. The rest of us will make for Nemeth.” With a number of backward glances at Merlin, they left the camp on foot, leaving their horses tethered by the ruins.

As soon as they were all out of earshot, Gwaine asked Gaius, “Do you think Hilda had anything to do with this?” 

“I don’t know. I hope not. We’ll have to wait until he wakes up.”

But almost an hour passed, and Merlin didn’t so much as stir. “He should have come to by now,” Gwaine said worriedly.

Gaius nodded. “It’s unusual. I think you may be right: Hilda may have had something to do with his condition.” He dug into his bag. “I need to use more drastic measures to bring him around.”

“Smelling salts?” Gwaine asked, thinking of Anna.

“A little more potent than that.” Gaius pulled out a small bundle of dried herbs and held them over Merlin. He said something in a language Gwaine didn’t understand, his eyes flashed gold, and the herbs began to smoke.

“Does everybody in Camelot secretly have magic?” Gwaine exclaimed under his breath, not wanting to break Gaius’s concentration.

Gaius continued to repeat the line, waving the smoking herbs slowly over Merlin. He did it several times, but there was no change. “Come on, Merlin,” he muttered, and tried it again. Gwaine held his breath. “Please, Merlin,” he whispered desperately. “That’s all I have. Let it be enough.” Merlin didn’t move, and Gaius’s head dropped in defeat.

“Look!” Gwaine said as Merlin’s eyes slowly fluttered open and focused on Gaius’s face.

“Merlin!”

Merlin smiled. “Gaius.” He tried to sit up, but fell back again and clutched his throat.

“Easy!” Gwaine said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Hilda,” Merlin gasped out, “is Morgana.”

“Morgana?” Gwaine repeated.

“She’s using some kind of aging spell.”

“Explains why she’s always so tired.”

“Mithian tried to warn me,” Merlin said desperately, tears in his eyes, “but I couldn’t warn Arthur. Morgana got to me first.”

“She nearly killed you, Merlin!”

“Yes. Well,” he smiled, “she didn’t count on a sorcerer of your power, now did she?”

“She’s not the only one,” Gwaine muttered with a smile.

“Indeed.” Gaius helped Merlin to sit up. “But Merlin—don’t make me do that again. I’m not sure my heart can take it.”

“We need to get to Arthur,” Merlin said as Gwaine pulled him to his feet and steadied him. “He’s walking straight into a trap!” He snatched up a sword and was striding away before Gwaine could even remonstrate. He glanced back at Gaius questioningly.

“He’ll be fine,” Gaius said, waving him on. “Go save Arthur!”


	30. Chapter 30

To Gwaine’s surprise, Merlin showed no signs of concussion—in fact, he seemed to be as fit as ever. He ran through the forests, his long legs (and lack of armor) keeping him ahead of Gwaine. They followed the tracks of the others, narrowly avoiding a small band of Odin’s soldiers.

At last they reached the Tomb of King Loth. Crawling up a small ridge, Gwaine and Merlin peered down at Percival and Elyan and the rest of the knights, being herded away by Odin’s men.

“We’re too late,” Gwaine said.

“Not if we even up the numbers.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“I’ll go after Arthur,” Merlin said, moving away.

A hand on his arm stopped him. “Good luck,” Gwaine said. But he knew that Merlin would be fine: his magic was more than a match for anything Morgana was planning. And he himself had some plans for rescuing his comrades.

000

Leon struggled in the arms of Odin’s men as Odin himself loomed over Arthur, his sword drawn.

“You kill me, and you’ll have all of Camelot to answer to,” Arthur said.

“Camelot is nothing without its king,” Odin answered.

Despite the situation, Arthur laughed. “Then you don’t know my wife,” he rejoined. “She and my knights will hunt you, and they will find you. And they will not rest until they are done.”

“I will deal with your queen soon enough,” Odin responded. “But now, your time has come.” He raised his sword. Leon struggled helplessly and Mithian hid her face in her father’s shoulder. 

But the blow never landed. There was a booming noise, and the entire chamber shook, dust and rock falling from the ceiling. In the resulting confusion, he and Arthur broke free, snatching up swords from their captors. Leon charged toward Odin’s men. Behind him he heard Arthur exclaim, “Merlin?!”

“Hurry! This way!” Merlin’s voice rang out over the sound of falling stone. Leon shoved Rodor and Mithian toward the exit, catching up another sword from the floor and dashing out the door as the ceiling came down over the burial chamber.

He handed the sword off to Rodor as they left the tomb, running back toward the border of Camelot. Rodor stumbled and nearly fell, and Leon caught his arm and supported him as they dashed uphill.

But more of Odin’s men were coming when they reached the top. “This way!” Arthur shouted, pulling Mithian along with him. 

There was a shout, and three men converged on them from different directions. Leon dispatched his opponent and looked around just in time to see Rodor deliver a killing blow to his own.

“Don’t look so surprised,” he said to Arthur. “I commanded an army in my time.”

“And you will do so again,” Arthur answered with a grin. Leon wondered if his optimism was misplaced. They had to get to safe ground, first.

It was proving difficult. Not only were they on foot, but Rodor, though still a capable swordsman, didn’t have the endurance to run for so long. “Leave me,” he said at last, leaning against a tree.

“That’s not going to happen,” Arthur argued. “You’re the reason we’re here!”

“Leave me. Save Mithian,” Rodor insisted. Leon pulled Rodor’s arm over his shoulder as Odin and his men reappeared in the distance.

“Follow the ridgeline,” Arthur commanded Leon.

“What about you?” Rodor argued.

“We’ll lead them the other way.”

“No!” Mithian exclaimed.

“This is between me and Odin. You need no further pardons.”

“Come on,” Leon said, supporting Rodor toward the ridge. Mithian, with a backward glance at Arthur, followed.

Leon half expected Odin’s men to split up and pursue them both, but it seemed Arthur was right: all Odin’s attention was focused on the King of Camelot, and he would not rest until he had his revenge.

“Where are we heading?” Rodor asked breathlessly.

“The place we left the horses. Gaius should still be there,” Leon answered.

“And when we reach it?” Mithian asked.

It was a good question. Arthur had gone into Nemeth to rescue Rodor and take him back to Camelot so that he could raise an army to reconquer his throne. From that perspective, the best thing for Leon to do would be to escort them back to Camelot and safety. On the other hand, his King and his comrades were fighting Odin’s men, and could he leave them behind? If they waited too long at the campsite, Odin could catch up with them. If they didn’t, they could leave Arthur in need of help.

But Odin had demonstrated that it was Arthur whose blood he desired. He would likely believe that Rodor would not be able to gather the troops he would need to take back Nemeth if Arthur were dead. And he was probably right.

“We are not Rodor’s target,” he finally replied. “We can wait for him at the campsite and hope that he and the other knights will reconvene there.”

They arrived at the campsite without incident. Gaius met them eagerly, and Leon filled him in on what had happened. They had not been there long when they heard shouting in the distance. Odin’s men had found them.

Leon’s first thought was to hide, but the sight of the horses would give them away. And they had no time to get to the horses and ride for Camelot. The only thing he could do was to get his charges into the most defensible place possible.

“Over here!” he ordered, herding them back into a corner of the ruin and drawing his sword. Rodor came to stand beside him, his own sword at the ready. Leon had his doubts about Rodor’s ability to fight in his condition, but it would be fruitless to argue—and Odin’s men were nearly on them.

The place he had chosen was narrow enough that only two or three could approach them at a time. In his desperation, Leon attacked the first two with such vigor that they stumbled backward and regrouped before two more made an attack. Rodor fought at Leon’s side, but his breath was soon coming in gasps, and Leon knew he couldn’t hold out much longer. Just as he thought this, Rodor took a blow to the arm and fell backward. Leon stepped forward to defend him, taking down another soldier, when a blow to his side nearly knocked the air out of him. Stumbling, he swung at his attacker.

“RETREAT!” someone shouted. “RETREAT!”

The soldier confronting Leon hesitated for a moment, then turned and followed his companions out of the ruins. Leon turned, gasping, to make sure everyone was alright. 

“Sir Leon! You’re wounded,” Gaius exclaimed.

He shook his head. “See to Rodor,” he gasped.

Mithian was pressing a cloth to Rodor’s arm. “It’s just a flesh wound,” she said calmly, though her face was white. “Why did they call a retreat?”

“LEON!” a familiar voice shouted. Leon, too out of breath to answer, climbed up out of the ruins to see Arthur and Merlin coming toward them as Odin’s men disappeared in the direction of Nemeth.

“Leon!” Arthur said with a smile, and clapped him on the back. Leon winced. “Are you hurt.”

Leon shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

“Let’s have Gaius see to that ‘nothing,’” Merlin said.

“Why did Odin’s men retreat?” Leon asked as they rejoined the others.

“I’ve made peace with him,” Arthur answered.

Everyone turned to stare at him.

“You what?” Leon couldn’t believe his ears.

“We fought one-on-one. I beat him, and persuaded him to make peace with me in exchange for his life. He agreed.” He looked over at Rodor. “Nemeth will be returned to you. But first,” he said, kneeling down to look at his arm, “I think we’ll go back to Camelot to treat your wound properly.”


	31. Chapter 31

Leon felt his head spinning and took a seat on a convenient rock.

“No more arguments, Leon,” Gaius said sternly. “Take off your armor. I need to take a look at your wounds.”

“The chainmail blocked it. It’s really nothing,” Leon assured him, even as Merlin helped him off with his hauberk.

“Defending myself, my daughter and Gaius from Odin’s men nearly single-handedly is not what I’d call nothing,” Rodor said. 

Gaius had discovered Leon’s broken rib and was wrapping it tightly when the other knights reappeared. 

“Thank God, you’re all safe,” Elyan exclaimed. “We thought for sure Odin had killed you by now.” Gwaine clapped Merlin on the back in secret congratulations.

“He tried.” Arthur grinned. “But I won.”

“You killed him!” Percival said with a smile.

“I made peace with him.”

Merlin hid a grin as everyone stared at Arthur again. This was likely to be the reaction every time he made this announcement, he reflected.

000

There were still several hours of daylight left, so they left the ruins and headed toward Camelot. They traveled at a much gentler pace for Rodor and Leon’s sake: riding a horse with a broken rib was no joke.

As the sun went down they made camp. Merlin went, as usual, to gather firewood, and Gwaine went to help him. “You never told me how you managed to get Arthur out of the tomb,” he said chattily as they began to fill their arms with firewood.

“Earthquake,” Merlin said distractedly.

“You can _do_ that?” Merlin nodded, but was looking away, into the woods. “Merlin?” When he didn’t answer, Gwaine asked, “What is it?”

“There’s something over there.” Merlin began to wander southward, and Gwaine tossed down his firewood, drew his sword, and followed him.

Merlin led him, apparently by some sixth sense, to an opening in a seemingly impenetrable thicket. He stepped forward to walk through, and Gwaine grabbed his arm. The movement shook Merlin out of his trance.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Gwaine said. He was no wizard, but even he could feel something strange about the place.

“I have to,” Merlin answered. “Someone is calling me.”

“At least let me go first,” Gwaine said, raising his sword.

Merlin shook his head vehemently. “You have to leave that outside.”

“ _What?_ You want to go _unarmed_ into that place?”

“It’s a sacred grove. You can’t take weapons in. Besides,” he grinned, “I’m never unarmed.”

Gwaine narrowed his eyes, but reluctantly thrust his sword point-first into the sward and followed Merlin into the grove.

It had been overgrown so thickly with vines and thorns that very little sunlight filtered in. Gwaine wished they’d brought a torch. Merlin led him forward, and as his eyes adjusted, he realized they were approached a robed figure, her features entirely hidden in the shadow under her hood. Gwaine swallowed hard.

“Ah. Emrys,” she said, and he stopped, as if he did not dare to come closer. “You have come at last.”

_Who’s Emrys?_ Gwaine thought, but Merlin was already answering. “You called me. Who are you?”

“I am one of the Disir—the mouthpiece of the Triple Goddess, who sees all, who knows all. I come with a message for you: a message of the future will come to pass if steps are not taken to avert it.”

“What future?”

“The destruction of everything you value. The end of Arthur’s reign. The fall of Camelot itself.”

Gwaine sucked in his breath, but Merlin was silent for a long time. “I have foreseen that Mordred is destined to play a part in Arthur’s death,” he said at last. Gwaine turned to stare at him.

“Perhaps,” the Dís answered, “perhaps not. The future has many paths. That is only one. There is a way to avert the future you fear.”

“What is it?” Merlin asked eagerly.

“Arthur must repent of his crimes against his people.”

Gwaine stepped forward angrily. “Arthur has been an honorable king! He has made Camelot a fair and just kingdom!”

The Dís looked at him for the first time, and Gwaine felt a shiver run down his back. She looked at him like he was a cockroach who could be crushed.

“So much is true. But Arthur has waged war on the people of the Old Religion. He and his father before him have slaughtered the Druids, have killed many who wished only to do good with their magic. And as Camelot flowers, the seeds of her destruction are being sown.” She turned back to Merlin and Gwaine stepped backward shakily, relieved to be released from her gaze. “Arthur must repent of his crimes. His repentance must be a turning away from the slaughter he and Uther have perpetrated upon us. He must allow magic into Camelot. If he does not, his violence will fall upon his own head.”

“I know that one day Arthur will allow magic—that we will live in freedom again,” Merlin replied. “But the process of changing his mind is slow and subtle.”

“And have you really tried to change his mind?” the Dís said, and even Gwaine could feel the gimlet stare she leveled at Merlin. He shivered. Merlin dropped his gaze. “You must try harder, Merlin Emrys. Arthur must repent soon.”

“How soon?”

“Soon.” The Dís turned and walked away, disappearing into the darkness.

“Come on,” Merlin said, taking Gwaine’s arm and leading him back out of the thicket. Once more outside its walls, Gwaine leaned over and put his hands on his knees, panting as if he had run a mile. Merlin pulled his sword out of the ground and handed it to him. “We need to get back, or they’ll be worrying about us,” he said quietly, and picked up his bundle of firewood once more.


	32. Chapter 32

The rest of the journey back to Camelot was slow and uneventful. Guinevere met them in the courtyard on their return, greeting her husband and brother joyfully, and courteously leading Rodor and Mithian to their rooms. “But where is Hilda?” she asked fearfully.

“Hilda wasn’t Hilda,” Arthur answered, and she frowned in confusion. “I’ll explain soon,” he promised.

Gaius was tired from the journey, so Merlin and Leon saw to Rodor and Leon, neither of whom was in a dangerous condition: they really just needed rest. Merlin had to see to Arthur after and Gwaine had duties around the castle, so Anna couldn’t get the story from either of them. Luckily, she fell in with a small group of servants who were gathered around Elyan and his sweetheart, a local girl named Tirion, who had come up to the castle to greet him on his return. He explained how he and the other knights had been captured and then rescued by Gwaine (he winked at Anna when he told this part), and then described their reunion with Arthur and what had happened to him in the tomb and with Odin afterward. 

“An earthquake?” one of the maids, Faleiry, said when he was done. “That was lucky.”

“Arthur is one of the luckiest men I’ve ever met,” Elyan agreed. “The number of narrow escapes he’s had—I think someone must be looking out for him. Isn’t that right, Merlin?”

Merlin, who was walking past on an errand, merely gave a tight smile and kept on.

“What’s wrong with him?” Faleiry whispered. The castle maids of course knew Merlin well, and his usually cheerful outlook.

“I don’t know. He’s been awfully quiet since we started back to Camelot. Gwaine too, come to think of it,” he added, and the girls all looked at Anna.

They seemed to expect an explanation. “I haven’t had a chance to exchange more than two words with him yet,” she said.

And in fact, she didn’t get a chance to talk to him all day. But when she got back to the tower after her rounds that evening, Gwaine was there. He had his foot up on a chair and was leaning on his knee, apparently in intense conversation with Merlin and Gaius, but he stood up when she came in—almost guiltily, she thought.

“I’m here to walk you home, m’lady,” he said with his usual charming smile.

“Let me put away my supplies,” she said, setting her bag in its usual corner.

Although he was clearly happy to be with her, Gwaine was indeed unusually silent as he walked her down to the lower town to her cottage near the Rising Sun. He would have kissed her goodnight as usual at the door, but she opened it. “Come in for a moment,” she said. He hesitated, then stepped inside.

She closed the door. “Gwaine,” she began gently, “when we got back together again, we made each other a promise.”

“No more secrets,” he agreed.

“Yes. Now tell me what _really_ happened in Nemeth.”

Gwaine sat down. “It’s not that I’ve been keeping it secret, exactly,” he explained, staring down at the table. Anna noticed that he didn’t lean back in his chair in his usual insouciant way. “It’s just—it was strange, and it’s difficult to talk about.”

She sat down across from him. “Let me start you off,” she said with a small smile. “Merlin was the first to figure out that Hilda was Morgana. She attacked him. That much I learned from Elyan.”

“Yes. And Gaius brought him to—with magic.”

Anna stared. “Gaius has magic?”

He grinned. “I was as surprised as you are. Apparently he only keeps it for emergencies.”

Anna shook her head. “I suppose it makes sense. He seems to know a lot about the Old Religion. And then—Merlin was the one who caused the earthquake, wasn’t he?”

“Yes. And, from what I’ve gathered, persuaded Arthur to spare Odin’s life.”

“As usual, the unsung hero. But what was so difficult about any of that?”

“It wasn’t that. It was what happened afterward. The first evening.” Gwaine described the encounter with the Dís and what she had told them. He looked up at the end to find Anna staring at him.

She sat back in her chair and blew out her cheeks. “Arthur has to legalize magic.”

“Yes.”

“Well, I sure hope Merlin knows how to make him do that. Because I don’t know of much of anything that could change his mind.”

“If anyone can find a way to change Arthur’s heart, it’s Merlin,” Gwaine said, with forced cheerfulness. Now I must be going,” he added, standing up and kissing her goodnight, “or your neighbors will become suspicious.” He shot her a last cheeky grin and left.

000

Rodor and Mithian remained in Camelot for two weeks until word came that Odin had withdrawn all of his troops from Nemeth and Rodor was well enough to travel comfortably.

“The only one of us whose problems aren’t solved yet is you,” Mithian said to Leon.

“Wise diplomacy can restore a kingdom, good friends can provide rest, but even a court physician can’t make broken ribs mend any faster,” Leon agreed with a smile. “But he can guarantee that they _will_ mend, and with my friends’ problems solved, my own seem lighter.”

Mithian smiled at this courteous speech. “My father and I are greatly in your debt, Sir Leon. If there I ever anything we can do to help you, we are at your service.” She put her hand in his, and he raised it to his lips.

“My daughter is right,” Rodor said, coming up unannounced. Mithian and Leon both jumped, and Leon tried not to look guilty. “You have our gratitude, and our friendship.” He shook Leon’s hand. “Come, Mithian.”

Leon followed them to the courtyard and watched Mithian spring lightly into her saddle—admiring her horsemanship, but still wishing his ribs had been well enough to allow him to toss her up himself. Rodor thanked Arthur and Guinevere, renewing his vows of friendship to Camelot. Mithian smiled down at Leon. “Goodbye, Sir Leon.”

“Goodbye, my lady,” he answered, and watched her ride away.


	33. Chapter 33

Anna hurried through the lower town, dodging around the people bustling here and there, decorating the town for the visiting king’s arrival. She had planned to leave her house early that morning to be at the tower and get her chores done before King Illtyd of Amata arrived, but it seemed everyone else had had the same idea: the entire town, it seemed, had risen early. 

Anna wondered what the town’s reaction would have been if Illtyd’s father, King Sarrum, had been the one they’d been greeting instead. Sarrum had a particularly ruthless reputation. He had been killed in an encounter with Morgana about a year before. His son was a more moderate ruler, but had no great love for Morgana—thus the projected alliance with Camelot.

Gaius was still in bed when Anna finally got the tower. She was about to apologize for bursting in on him so early, when she saw the expression on his face. “What is it?”

“Merlin is headed toward the Valley of the Fallen Kings.”

“What? Why?”

“A Druid boy sneaked into the castle last night and asked him to help his sister. He says she has the sweating sickness. Merlin promised to meet with him this morning.”

“That’s almost half a day’s journey! And on the day Illtyd visits—Arthur will be _furious_.” 

“You don’t have to tell _me_ that,” Gaius said sourly. 

Sure enough, Arthur showed up in the surgery half an hour later. “Where is he?” he asked angrily. “And don’t ask ‘who’,” he added as Gaius opened his mouth.

“He’s gathering herbs, Sire,” Gaius answered.

“Gathering herbs.”

“Yes, Sire.”

“When will he be back?”

“It’s hard to say. He’s gone in pursuit of a young agrimonia. They’re difficult to find—he could be all day.”

“On the day one of our allies comes to visit?” Arthur asked, exasperated. Then his eyes narrowed. He pointed at Anna. “Why didn’t she go after it?”

Anna tried not to look guilty.

“She’s—unfamiliar with the area, Sire. She doesn’t know where they grow.”

Arthur put his hands on his hips and hung his head in surrender. “He’s in the tavern, isn’t he?” he asked in a voice of longsuffering.

“No, Sire!”

“Well, when he gets back from ‘gathering agrimonia’”—Arthur made air quotes—“tell him he has exactly one hour to sober up and get to my chambers. We’ve a guest to prepare for.”

Anna and Gaius exchanged looks as Arthur stalked out again.

“If he’s going to the Valley of the Kings and back, he won’t be back before evening,” Anna pointed out. “Arthur will be _livid_.”

“He knew the risks when he left,” Gaius said with a sigh.

000

But Merlin wasn’t back by evening. In fact, when Anna came back the next morning, she found Gaius pacing the floor worriedly.

“He didn’t come back,” he said without preamble.

“Maybe he had to stay with the girl overnight.”

“Maybe. But something about this situation has seemed fishy from the first. A _druid_ just happens to show up the night before an important diplomatic meeting, needing help for his sister, who is so far away—surely it would have been easier for him to have gone to someone closer? There are villages nearer to the Valley who have healers.”

“None as skilled as you.”

“But it wasn’t me he was asking for. It was Merlin. And I’m not casting aspersions on Merlin’s skills, but he’s not more skilled than closer healers.”

“…You think it’s some kind of trap?” Anna said at last. “But why?”

Gaius shook his head. “I don’t know, but I wish I’d persuaded him to stay.”

Anna turned around and opened the door. “I’ll go after him.”

“Not through the Valley!” Gaius expostulated. “It’s a den of cutthroats and murderers!”

Anna pursed her lips in thought. “All the more reason to go.” Gaius opened his mouth and Anna raised her hand. “I’ll get Gwaine to go with me.”

“Arthur will _not_ like one of his most trusted knights disappearing without leave.”

“But if it is a trap, better Gwaine play hooky than Merlin get killed,” Anna said, and left before Gaius could argue any farther.

000

“The Valley of the Fallen Kings, you say?” Gwaine said, buckling on his sword belt.

“Yes. I’m afraid it’s rather a long trip—”

Gwaine waved away the objection. “Merlin might be in danger. We have to go after him.”

“We’ll need to stop by the kitchens for some food. Should we ride?”

Gwaine shook his head as he threw on an unassuming brown cloak. “It would draw too much attention. Besides, I’m going to have to track them, and that’s easier done on foot than from the back of a horse.”

Even so, it took most of the day to follow Merlin’s path to the Valley. It was growing dark by the time they stepped into its gloom. In the poor light, Gwaine had even more trouble finding Merlin’s trail.

“Hm,” he said, examining the ground.

“What?”

“The smaller set of footprints turns away here,” Gwaine said. “It looks like the boy ran away.”

“Why would he do that?” Anna said nervously.

Gwaine looked around. “There—those scuff marks!” he said, moving a few steps farther. “It looks like someone was—thrown backward…” He ran a little farther on. “He landed here. And there is a third set of footprints. They leave that direction.” He pointed away. “But where is Merlin?”

Anna came up next to him and peered down the sharp drop beside them. “Oh, no,” she gasped, and ran back down the hill. Gwaine, confused, stared down into the darkness. Merlin was lying, unmoving, at the bottom.


	34. Chapter 34

Gwaine caught up with her as she reached Merlin. “Merlin. Can you hear me?” she said, turning his face toward her. His skin was pale and his jaw was distended. There were traces of spittle and some kind of black liquid by the sides of his mouth. Anna checked the back of his head and the small wound on his forehead. There was also a gash on his right leg below the knee.

“He doesn’t look good,” Gwaine said quietly, watching the way Merlin trembled with every breath.

“He’s been poisoned.” Anna’s jaw was set, and he didn’t like the look on her face. She pulled out her waterskin and poured some into Merlin’s mouth.

He sputtered and opened his eyes, looked around in confusion until he saw their faces.

“Merlin, can you speak?” Anna asked in her healer’s voice: a combination of gentleness and command.

He made a terrible sound as he took a breath. “Yes,” he managed around his swollen and immovable jaw.

“Do you have any idea what kind of poison you’ve ingested?” she asked.

He shook his head, rolling it back and forth on the rocky ground beneath him. “It was not just herbal” he managed. “It was Morgana—magic.”

Anna pressed her lips together. Gwaine knew what it meant—mere herbal remedies would be no use. Magic had to be defeated with magic.

“Can you heal yourself?” Anna suggested calmly and clearly, erasing the small traces of worry from her face.

Merlin shook his head again and then retched. “I tried. I couldn’t,” he said at last.

“Try again.”

Merlin slowly turned his hands palm up and lifted his head, shaking with effort. The yellow light in his eyes that they had each seen before flickered like a guttering candle. He took a labored breath and tried again, and again the light flickered. Finally his head fell back as he lost consciousness.

“Oh God, Merlin,” Anna said despairingly, cradling his cheek.

Gwaine put one hand on her shoulder and one on Merlin’s. “Isn’t there anything we can do?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said bleakly, tears filling her eyes. “The only thing that can heal him is magic. Come _on_ , Merlin!” she said, giving his face a shake. Suddenly she gasped and jumped. Gwaine, staring at her, saw her eyes flash golden. A look of terror crossed her face as it happened again, the golden glow growing stronger this time.

“Anna?” he said nervously.

Merlin’s eyes flew open, glowing brightly. He and Anna stared at one another for a moment like two cats with their yellow eyes glowing in the dark. Then Merlin’s head fell back again and Anna jerked her hand away from his skin like she had been burned. She turned to stare at Gwaine in fright for a moment, then turned and examined Merlin. He was unconscious again, but his jaw seemed more normal already, and his breathing had eased. Anna pressed a hand to her mouth.

“You healed him,” Gwaine said wonderingly.

“I didn’t!” she said quickly.

“You _did_. With magic. Your eyes glowed—like his.”

“Oh God!” she said again, and covered her face with her hands.

“Hey!” he said, pulling her close. “It’s alright. It’s fine. …It’s _more_ than fine,” he added. “You _saved_ him!”

Anna lowered her hands and looked down at Merlin. He looked like he was improving by the moment.

“It wasn’t just me,” she said weakly. “He did part of it. I—I have to do something about the wound in his leg.” She pulled out her bag and began rooting around in it for herbs and bandages. Gwaine, realizing that she needed action to distract her from what had happened, silently helped her to lay the wound bare and wash and bind it. 

Merlin was looking distinctly better by the time they finished. He seemed to be sleeping rather than in a deep unconsciousness like before.

“We should let him rest,” Anna said at last.

“What about Morgana? She must have had some reason for poisoning him,” Gwaine pointed out. “What plot is she hatching?”

Anna frowned. “We can’t learn anything about it until he wakes up,” she said at last. “And I don’t want to endanger his recovery by waking him too early. It can wait.” She turned and gave him a shaky smile. “Whatever it is, he can stop her.”

“ _We_ can stop her,” Gwaine amended with a smile, and put his arm around her again.

000

Gwaine felt Anna shift beside him and opened his eyes blearily. The two of them had fallen asleep sitting with their backs against the cliff face, Anna’s head on his shoulder.

“What is it?” he asked groggily.

“Merlin’s stirring,” she answered, crawling forward. “Merlin, can you hear me?”

Merlin took a deep breath and opened his eyes. He smiled up at her. “Good morning,” he said softly.

Gwaine lurched forward. “Merlin! How do you feel?”

Merlin groaned and sat up, with a hand from Gwaine. “Like I’ve been run over by a horse,” he said wearily as Anna picked leaves out of his hair.

“Why did Morgana poison you?” Gwaine asked. “Do you know?”

“She said something just before I blacked out—that I was always spoiling her plans, and that she wouldn’t have it this time. She said—I wouldn’t be able to protect Arthur from her anymore.”

“So she is planning something?”

Merlin nodded. “And soon. We have to get back to Camelot!” he struggled to his feet with Gwaine’s help and strode off at a pace no one would have thought him capable of who had seen his state the night before.

“Anna—” Gwaine began.

“Go on; I’ll catch up,” she said, stuffing supplies and food back into her bag.

Gwaine glanced sideways at Merlin as he hurried to keep up with Merlin’s jerky, long-legged stride. He wondered if Merlin even remembered what had happened the night before. But this, he supposed, wasn’t the time for it—there would be time enough to talk after they had saved Arthur.

The sun was just coming up as the three of them climbed up out of the Valley of the Fallen Kings and made their way toward Camelot.


	35. Chapter 35

Anna made Merlin stop several times on the way to Camelot to eat and rest, but he was so eager to get there that they still made it by noon. They hurried up to Arthur’s chamber, only to find it empty.

“Well. Where have _you_ been, Merlin?” one of the maids said, coming down the corridor. “Oh, Sir Gwaine—my apologies,” she added as she saw who was with him.

“Faleiry—where is the King?” Merlin asked urgently.

“In the Great Hall, signing the treaty with King Illtyd,” Faleiry answered in a tone that implied it was obvious.

They turned and hurried down toward the Hall. “Wait—” Merlin said, stopping so suddenly that Gwaine actually dragged him on a stride before he realized.

“What?”

“This should be locked,” Merlin said, indicating the door that led up to the gallery over the Great Hall. “You go warn Arthur,” he said, and Gwaine turned and ran on, while Merlin and Anna pushed open the heavy door and hurried up the stairs.

As they reached the top, Anna could hear Arthur’s voice ringing out from the Great Hall. “Today we celebrate a new friendship between Camelot and Amata. As we sign this treaty we pledge ourselves and our goods in defense of one another against our common foes.”

“SIRE!” Gwaine shouted.

Merlin and Anna burst through the last door and onto the gallery. Anna, behind Merlin, barely had time to register the massively tall man in leather armor wielding a crossbow before he released the bolt. She shouted, and the man reached for one of the small knives on his belt. Merlin threw a hand back to shield her, and it flew wide of its mark. Anna had never seen Merlin use his abilities in a fight before—but she didn’t have much time to contemplate it. Two more small knives followed, and both of them whistled past her ear as Merlin deflected them. Seeing that they were still standing, the man drew his sword—

—and fell backward gurgling, the handle of one of his own knives sticking out of his throat.

Anna sprang forward and pulled his sword out of his loosened fingers, but there was little for her to do: the light went out of the man’s eyes and his head fell to the side just as Percival and Elyan came thundering up the stairs and burst into the gallery, swords drawn. They stared at the tableau that met them.

“Arthur!” Merlin said urgently.

“He’s fine,” Elyan assured him, still staring at the would-be assassin. “Gwaine knocked him out of the way. What _happened?_ ”

There was a clatter on the stairs. “Elyan? Percival?”

“Everything’s fine up here, Sire,” Percival answered, sheathing his sword, and Arthur and Illtyd emerged from the stairwell and stared down at the assassin.

“Albin,” Illtyd said, shaking his head. “He was one of my father’s men. I humbly beg your forgiveness, Arthur: I had no idea he was planning anything like this. But why would he try to kill you?”

“And who killed _him?_ ” 

Percival and Elyan looked at Anna, and Anna pointed wordlessly at Merlin. Arthur seemed to notice him and Anna for the first time: Merlin with a bloody bandage around his leg and a wound on his brow, and Anna holding Albin’s sword. “He was hired by Morgana,” Merlin said, and stumbled a little as his injured leg gave.

Arthur caught him by the arm and held him up. “Let’s discuss this sitting down,” he said grimly, and led the way down the stairs.

000

“So let me get this straight.” Arthur was seated at the head of the table in the council chamber with Illtyd and Guinevere on his right and Merlin and Gaius on his left. The knights and Anna were gathered around them. “You went out early in the morning to pick a rare herb.” Merlin nodded. “While in the woods, you met a young boy who persuaded you that his sister was in need of immediate medical attention—no time to go back and fetch Gaius. So you went with him all the way to the _Valley of the Fallen Kings_ , only to discover that he didn’t _have_ a sister, and Morgana simply wanted to poison you to get you out of the way, because you’re always ‘spoiling her plans’.” Arthur’s expression clearly indicated that he thought Morgana had lost her magical marbles, but he went on. “Meanwhile, Gaius became worried that you hadn’t come back yet, and instead of bringing the matter to _me_ , he sent Anna and Gwaine to find you.”

“I knew you were busy with your honored guest—” Gaius began, but Arthur waved aside his objections.

“They managed to track you to the Valley of the Kings, where Anna cured you of the poison. In the morning, when you had recovered, you traveled back to Camelot. Morgana had contracted with Albin to assassinate me. He got the steward drunk last night and stole the key to the gallery from his ring. On your arrival in Camelot, believing that Morgana would strike sooner rather than later, you sent Gwaine to warn me, and finding the door to the gallery unlocked, you ran up just in time to see him fire his crossbow—the shot of which barely missed me as Gwaine knocked me over. Albin threw three knives at the two of you, all of which apparently _miraculously_ missed you, as Illtyd assures me Albin is one of the best shots in Amata, and he drew his sword, at which point _Merlin_ , of all people, threw one of his own knives back at him and struck him directly in the throat.” He raised both his hands. “Do I finally have that right?”

Anna, Gwaine, and Merlin nodded.

“You have to admit, it sounds pretty implausible,” Arthur said, and Anna held her breath. “I mean, Merlin tried to toss my _gloves_ to me last week and threw them right in a mud puddle. I would have less trouble believing _Anna_ had thrown that knife.” (Percival and Elyan exchanged looks and shrugged.)

“Lucky throw,” Merlin said weakly.

“ _I’ll_ say. Merlin, I’ve said it before: you must be the luckiest man in Albion.”

“I believe _you_ are the luckiest man,” Illtyd said, rising from his chair. The others all stood. “You are the one who has him for a servant. Again, Arthur, I offer my apologies.”

“It wasn’t your fault. Albin was one of your father’s men—of course you trusted him. With your consent, I would like to return to the Hall and complete the ceremony that my knight so rudely interrupted,” Arthur answered, slapping Gwaine on the back in thanks.

Merlin accompanied the others back toward the Hall, but Gwaine saw Anna slip away and followed her. He caught up with her in an isolated corner of a stairwell, and when she turned to face him, there were tears in her eyes. He pulled her into his arms and they stood there silently for a few minutes while oblivious servants ran up and down the stairs. At last she pulled back and wiped at her face. “Oh God, Gwaine, what am I going to do?” she groaned.

“The first thing we’re going to do,” he said calmly, imitating her healer’s voice as he smoothed her hair back from her face, “is talk to Merlin.”

She smiled up at him weakly at his use of “we” and together they went up the stairs to the surgery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Magical explanations in the next chapter!  
> So I have discovered that my document of notes for this fic is 15 pages long, single-spaced. The outline section alone is 3 pages, and I’ve covered about half a page of it so far. O_o  
> Thanks to everybody who reviewed! Half the fun of writing a fic like this is reading people’s reactions. :) Please review!


	36. Chapter 36

The surgery was empty when they arrived, and Anna occupied herself with tidying up while they waited. Gwaine helped, wiping down the tables and sweeping the floor. They had the place practically shining by the time Merlin returned and dropped heavily into a chair. Anna sat down and began cleaning the wound in his leg properly, preparatory to stitching it.

“Merlin,” she said at last, keeping her head bent over her work, “what exactly happened last night?”

“I’m not exactly sure,” he said slowly.

“But Anna did magic?” Gwaine asked.

“Yes. I just don’t know how much. Ouch!”

“Sorry. Just a few more stitches.”

“To tell you the truth,” Merlin added, gritting his teeth as Anna pulled the wound closed, “last night was a very strange experience.”

“You can say that again,” Anna muttered, tying off her thread.

“No, I mean—I’ve never—” He struggled for words. “That’s not how magic usually works,” he finally concluded.

“What do you mean?” Anna looked up at him for the first time.

“Here.” He put his foot down off of the chair and sat forward. “Try to heal the cut on my head.”

“Merlin, I—”

“Just try,” he said gently. 

Pressing her lips together, Anna placed her hand gently over the cut and closed her eyes. “Nothing,” she said at last, pulling her hand away.

Merlin caught it. “Try again. You were in a particular emotional state last night—you were desperate; you _willed_ me to be healed. Try to recapture that feeling—that will.”

Anna put her hand over it again and closed her eyes. This time when she opened them Merlin and Gwaine saw a flash of golden-yellow light.

“How does it look?” Merlin said to Gwaine.

Gwaine peered at Merlin’s forehead. “It’s not totally healed, but it’s definitely better,” he assessed.

Merlin smiled at Anna. “See, I think you have the will, and the instinct to heal, but you just don’t have much power.”

“Then how did she heal you last night? That would have taken a lot of power, wouldn’t it?” Gwaine pointed out.

“Because it wasn’t just me,” Anna explained. “He was already trying to use his own magic, but he was sick enough that he couldn’t. I healed him just enough that he could use his own magic.”

But Merlin was frowning. “Isn’t that it?” Gwaine asked.

Merlin shook his head. “It makes sense in general. Except—I’m terrible at healing people. Especially myself. I mean, yes, I heal quickly from injuries because I have so much magic, but actually using healing _spells_ on myself—I’m terrible at it.”

“You’ve done it before,” Anna pointed out. “That time Bergam and Cranog beat you up, you healed your own internal bleeding. I saw you do it—that’s how I learned you had magic.”

“That seemed strange to me at the time, too,” Merlin admitted. “But, since we didn’t know you had magic, it seemed like the only explanation—that I healed myself. But if there is another explanation…” He looked up at Anna and put his foot back on the chair. “Try to heal that cut,” he instructed.

She shook her head. “It’s too deep. There’s no way—”

“Just try.” He smiled at her reassuringly, and heaving a sigh, she put her hand on it. He covered it with his own, and she stared down at his leg. After a moment her eyes shone golden, and so did Merlin’s. When she drew her hand away, she and Gwaine both gasped: though the thread was still in it, Merlin’s leg was whole, without so much as a scar.

Merlin was grinning triumphantly. “See? _That’s_ what happened! I have plenty of power, but I’m no good at directing it toward healing. _You’re_ an instinctive healer. You channeled the raw power and used it to heal me! You must have done it with my internal bleeding, too.”

“I remember—I remember a _zing_ , but I thought it was fear,” Anna said. “Now that I think about it—it _did_ feel like what happened last night!”

There was a sharp exhalation from the direction of the door, and all three of them jumped and turned. It was only Gaius.

“How long have you been standing there?” Merlin demanded as Anna put a hand over her heart and took a few deep breaths.

“Long enough,” Gaius answered. He must have been deeply moved; he didn’t even bother to scold them for not being more careful to keep their magic secret. “I’ve never heard of anything like this,” he said, coming forward to examine Merlin’s leg. He looked up at Anna. “I’ve never heard of anyone channeling someone _else’s_ magic like this!”

Merlin was grinning. “Think what you could do—what we could do with this!” he said excitedly.

Anna groaned and buried her face in her hands. “But what if I don’t _want_ to?” she wailed.

“Anna, magic is _part_ of you—” Merlin began, but Gaius cut him off with a sharp word and a _look_.

“Anna,” Gaiussaid kindly, putting his hand on her shoulder, “your magic is just that: _yours_. You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to—and don’t let anyone, not even your friends” (he shot a look at Merlin) make you if you don’t want to. In fact, in the current political situation, I would advise you to use it as little as possible: magic is not safe in Camelot. However,” he continued, “I would recommend that you practice, at least a little. It is better to be familiar with your own abilities and how to control them. Otherwise, you are likely to display them involuntarily when you are under great stress, and someone might see.”

Anna took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “Alright. I’ll sleep on it,” she said at last.

Merlin was looking thoughtful. “Those aren’t the only times you’ve used your powers,” he mused. “There was Gwaine, as well.”

“What?” Gwaine said.

“When you were sick,” Merlin explained. “I tried to heal you, and nothing happened. But you were so much better the next day—much better than expected. It must have been Anna.” He turned back to her. “Remember? You said you were going to pull him through it—that you promised him he’d be alright, and you weren’t breaking the promise. That’s the will it takes to do the magic.”

“But I don’t remember actually using any,” Anna objected. “Wouldn’t I have noticed?”

“Not if the amount of power you were exerting was so small,” Gaius answered. “If you exerted a low level of power over a long period of time—say, a few hours—it might not be noticeable except in its effects.”

Gwaine was grinning. “I knew it!” He put his hand dramatically over his heart. “You’ve enchanted me!”

Anna chuckled a little and rolled her eyes. “Well, this enchantress needs a nap. Gaius, can you manage around here without me for a couple of hours?”

“Of course. Get some rest. You too, Merlin,” he added, picking up a small pair of scissors and removing the now useless stitches from his leg.

“I’ll walk you home,” Gwaine offered, jumping to his feet.

“Won’t Arthur want you at luncheon to help entertain his guest?”

“Arthur can bear my absence another half an hour,” Gwaine answered flippantly and offered her his arm. “Come on, my enchantress.”


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized a couple of chapters ago that I left out a scene I had really wanted to write. It doesn’t make a huge difference if it’s not there, but I really wanted to put it in. So I’ve gone back and added it. It’s the last scene in chapter 27, if you want to pop back and take a look.

“Don’t stray too far,” Leon cautioned Mordred as they picked their way through the darkness. “If Morgana _does_ come, we’re going to need all our combined strength to fight her.”

Mordred had his doubts that even together six of them could fight Morgana. Thinking that she might come to Camelot to meet with Albin, Arthur had sent his best knights out in two companies to search the woods around the town. Mordred had been assigned to Leon’s group, along with Elyan, Kahedin, Ranulf and Loholt. Percival and Gwaine were leading the other group, with Sagramor, Raynelle, Bors and Erec.

Mordred found himself wondering what he should do if they _did_ encounter Morgana. He was certain that might alone would not be enough to defeat her, but would he be able to use magic in the darkness without his comrades noticing? Really, the best thing to do would be to try to encounter her one-on-one. Not that he thought he had much chance against such a sorceress—his own magic, though strong, was no match for hers—but because even he had a better chance than the knights.

“Quiet,” Loholt said, holding up a hand, and the knights all stopped and held their breath. “Did you hear that?” he whispered.

Mordred turned his head and saw a flash of golden light. “LOOK OUT!” he yelled, ducking, and heard the sound of the knights being thrown backward. The shadowy figure ran, and Mordred ran after her. Finally, as she reached a small gap in the trees, she stopped and turned to face him. Morgana’s fair skin shone white in the moonlight. She was more beautiful even than the last time he had seen her—but Mordred knew that beauty was only skin deep. Her inner beauty, the beauty of heart that had caused her to risk her own life to protect him when they had first met in Camelot: that beauty was all but gone.

Morgana was smiling at him in the moonlight. “Why don’t you kill me?” Mordred asked.

“My argument’s not with you, Mordred. How could it be? We’re of a kind.”

Mordred involuntarily moved back a step in disgust. “Never.”

“You wear the uniform well, but we both know what lies beneath. Do you think Arthur would tolerate you for one minute if he knew the truth?” she asked angrily, her voice full of bitterness. “One of his knights, a sorcerer!”

“One day he will know,” Mordred answered. “One day we will be accepted.”

“Your naïveté would be charming if it wasn't so dangerous,” Morgana answered, and Mordred thought he heard a tremor of fear in her voice. “Where's Emrys?”

“Emrys?”  
“You pretend you do not know of whom I speak?” Morgana said, exasperated. “I know that he is protecting Arthur. I know that he is spoiling my plans.”

“It is a name I've only heard of,” Mordred answered guardedly.

“He's not here? In Camelot?” She was definitely afraid.

“If he were, would we both not feel the presence of such a great sorcerer?”

Morgana stared at him uncertainly for a moment, then seemed to make up her mind. “Then I have no further use for you,” she said, and raised her hand.

“You would strike one of your own?” Mordred asked. Morgana hesitated. “I am not strong enough to defeat you, Morgana, but know this. Such hatred as yours can never triumph. Once you protected me from Uther: not because I had magic, but because I was innocent. Now, in your attempt to revenge, not all magic users, but merely _yourself_ against Uther and his son--your attempt to wrest some power for yourself--you _kill_ the innocent. How many children died the hands of the Southrons? How many townspeople of Camelot did you execute merely because they were loyal to the king who protected them?” She had lowered her hand as he spoke, and he thought in the fitful light that he saw her eyes fill with tears. “I hope one day you will find the love and compassion which used to fill your heart,” he said—and he meant it. She looked at him in confusion and grief—and he raised his hand and threw her backward through the air. She landed, unconscious, on the ground.

It was his chance. If Sir Leon had her in such a position, he would capture her and take her to Arthur—or kill her where she lay. But there was some good in her yet, somewhere. To show her mercy, to give her another chance when she didn’t deserve it: that was an act of love, of the love that he wanted her to find once more. Maybe what she needed was someone else to show it to her. He turned and walked away.

000

“Leon? Sir Leon.” Someone was shaking him. Leon groaned and opened his eyes. It felt like someone had hit him in the head with a brick.

“Mordred?” he said thickly. “What happened?”

“Morgana attacked,” Mordred said, and on the words, Leon came wide awake. 

Ignoring his throbbing head, he turned and began helping Mordred to wake his comrades. “Is everyone alright?” he asked.

“I’ll live,” Kahedin groaned.

“Where did she go?” Loholt asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I thought I saw her run that was before I lost consciousness,” Mordred said, pointing eastward. The knights headed in that direction, but when they reached the clearing, there was no sign of Morgana.

“She has disappeared again,” Leon sighed. “She must know by now that Albin failed in his mission. We should return to Camelot and signal the other party.”

They turned and headed back toward Camelot, but Mordred took one last look over his shoulder at the grove, and remembered the fear in Morgana’s face.


	38. Chapter 38

“Isn’t Gwaine coming to walk you home this evening?” Merlin asked as Anna gathered her things together. 

“No—he and some of the other knights were escorting the Queen on a ride,” Anna explained. “Though I would have expected them to be back by now,” she added, glancing out the window at the darkening sky.

“Gaius!” someone shouted in the corridor, and Anna opened the door just in time for one of the stablehands to come charging in the room. “Two knights have been bitten by poisonous snakes,” he panted. “They’re bringing them up now.”

“Merlin, hollyhock. Two grams,” Gaius said as Anna threw off her cloak and pulled out two of the cots from the side of the room. In a moment, Percival and Leon were brought in on stretchers, escorted by Elyan and Gwaine and followed almost immediately by Arthur. 

“What happened?” he asked urgently.

“We were riding,” Elyan answered. “Came upon a nest of snakes. Didn’t Gwen tell you?”

“Gwen?”

Elyan and Gwaine exchanged a look. “She got away—didn’t she make it back?” Gwaine asked, though the answer to that was clear.

“We’ll search for her,” Elyan said, moving toward the door.

“No—you’re tired, and we may need you tomorrow,” Arthur decided quickly. “I’ll form some of the other knights into a search party.” He turned and strode out of the room, and Gwaine followed him. Elyan looked helplessly at Percival and Leon, whom Gaius and his apprentices were already examining.

“You can’t do anything here,” Gaius said, not unkindly. Elyan nodded in understanding and left, shutting the door behind him.

“I’ve never seen a snakebite like this before,” Anna said, looking at the twin puncture wounds on Leon’s arm.

“This was no accident,” Gaius said. “There is dark magic coursing through their veins. By any rights, they should be dead.” He looked up at Anna. “This would be an excellent time to practice using your new abilities.”

She looked half-sick at the thought. “Won’t someone know?” she objected.

“They’re unconscious and no one else is here to see,” Merlin pointed out. 

“But won’t someone guess that we used magic to cure them so quickly?”

“I don’t believe so,” Gaius replied, with a small smile. “I do have _some_ reputation as a healer, you know.” Anna turned pink, but sat down by Leon’s cot. “Now, what you want to do is learn to use your abilities willfully, instead of just by instinct,” Gaius coached her, “so I want you to really observe and analyze what you’re doing. Firstly, think about what kind of magic you want to do.”

“Ridding the body of poison,” Anna said, and Gaius nodded, waiting for more. “It’s snakebite, so there is poison in the blood. We need—I need—to purify the blood.”

“Yes. Now Merlin is going to lend you power to do this,” Gaius said. “But you are the one directing that power. You are like a funnel: you take in the magic that Merlin gives you and you direct it with precision toward the goal.” 

Anna nodded and placed her hand over the snakebite on Leon’s arm. “What do I say?”

Gaius looked at Merlin, who thought for a moment. “Try _Ic þe þurhhæle þin licsare_ ,” he suggested. She repeated it several times until she had it, then nodded. Merlin put his hand over her own, giving her a reassuring smile. She returned it and closed her eyes in concentration.

“ _Ic þe þurhhæle þin licsare_ ,” she said, opening her eyes. Merlin’s eyes and her own both flashed golden at the same time, and Anna lifted her hand from Leon’s arm, peeking at the wound. There was no change.

“It didn’t work,” she said flatly.

“Try again,” Gaius said patiently, and she covered it again. 

“ _Ic þe þurhhæle þin licsare_.” The wound was still the same. “You should just use the hollyhock," Anna said, pushing her chair back.

“No, no,” Gaius said, putting out a hand to stop her. “You can do this. What do you feel when you try to heal the wound?”

She frowned. “There’s… an almost overwhelming power flowing through me from Merlin,” she said at last. “It flows all over Leon, but it… it’s like it bounces off. It doesn’t do anything.”

“This time, try to hold some of it back. Direct what you let through into the wound itself, and from there to the bloodstream,” Gaius coached, and Anna put her hand over Leon’s arm once more. This time there was a long pause as she concentrated on her task, and when at last her eyes and Merlin’s flashed gold, they both remained so for a few moments longer than usual. 

Leon shifted and moaned. When Anna and Merlin let go of his arm, the marks from the snake were gone.

“Good! Now quickly, before he wakes up!” Gaius said urgently, and they quickly repeated the operation with Percival. This time it worked immediately.

And not a moment too soon. Leon opened his eyes only a few seconds after they had finished and looked around dazedly. “Where am I?” he groaned.

“You’re back in Camelot,” Gaius said reassuringly as Anna got up unobtrusively, trying to look natural.

“Percival!—” Leon exclaimed as memory returned, and tried to sit up.

“Easy! He’s fine.” Merlin caught him as he lurched dizzily. “See?” he pointed to where Percival was beginning to stir under Anna’s supervision.

“And the others?” Leon said urgently.

“Everyone’s fine. Except—” Merlin and Gaius exchanged a look.

“Except?” Leon said impatiently

“The Queen has not returned to the castle yet.” Leon tried to sit up again and Merlin and Gaius both held him back. “Arthur is sending out a search party. The best thing you can do right now is to rest. You will heal more quickly, and be a greater help to Arthur when he needs you.”

Leon sighed, but did as he was told. He always was the most reasonable of the knights, Merlin reflected thankfully.

And it seemed Arthur would indeed need his help. A few hours later the search party returned. They had not found Guinevere, and it was too dark to find any tracks. With the knowledge that Morgana might be behind the disappearance, Arthur decided that he and his best knights would go in search of her at first light. Percival and Leon, Gaius had assured him, would be fully recovered by then. 

Merlin relayed the message to the King in his bedchamber. Arthur nodded, but was silent.

“Arthur?”

“I lost Guinevere once before,” he said quietly, not making eye contact.

“You are not going to lose her,” Merlin said, advancing to him. “You’re not. We will find her: I swear.” He held out his hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, Arthur clasped his arm, then gave a short, humorless laugh.

“What?”

“You make me these promises. But what can you do to fulfill them? You can’t fight, you can’t track, and you scare off the game when we hunt.” His tone for once wasn’t mocking. “And yet I trust you. I believe you can do what you promise.” He looked closely at Merlin’s face. “Why is that, Merlin?”

It was an opening. He could do it—he could say something. _Anything_ —anything that would lead to telling Arthur the things he should know. That would lead to the conversation Merlin had been awaiting for so many years…

Merlin shook his head. “I guess the Old Gods smile on foolish optimism,” he said brightly, blinking back tears.

Arthur gave another humorless laugh and looked away. “I guess so.”


	39. Chapter 39

Gwen was weary and footsore by the time they reached their destination. They came upon the tower suddenly—it loomed up before them in the darkness. Morgana, pulling on the rope that bound Gwen’s hands, led her past the large, arched entrance and around the back of the tower where there was a small door, nearly hidden among the stones. Gwen and Morgana climbed up and up into the tower, past door after door. Finally Morgana opened one of these and led Gwen into a comfortable room with a table and chairs, a bed, and a fireplace. Morgana cut Gwen’s bonds and moved to light the fire. “Not so terrible, is it?” she said over her shoulder. Gwen, rubbing her wrists, made no answer, but wandered over to the wall, where a smaller table held a jumble of items—Morgana’s personal belongings. 

To her surprise, Gwen recognized many of them from the old days: the knife Arthur had given Morgana for her birthday, a necklace that was a present from Uther, the bracelet that Morgause had given her when they first met that kept away her nightmares. Under this, Gwen even saw a pincushion sewn for Morgana by Gwen herself. It was made of cheap materials, the only thing Gwen could afford in those days, and Morgana, she remembered, had put away the trimmed one that an admirer had given her and had used Gwen’s pincushion, every day, to store the straight pins she used to arrange her costly gowns. Gwen felt tears spring to her eyes.

“The knights have been searching for you for a whole day, now,” Morgana said, and the sound of her voice brought Gwen back to reality. Morgana was no longer her mistress and her friend: she was her enemy. How far her generous heart had fallen. Gwen took a deep breath and turned back to her former mistress. “They will lose our trail eventually: I brought you here by a secret way that only I know. But we must make sure they come here to find you.”

“How will you do that?” Gwen asked stiffly. 

“You remember my nightmares—how I woke screaming every night?” Morgana said, her eyes flashing and her mouth curling into a cruel smile. “I will send them a dream such as I had then: a vision of the tower. And they will come.”

“He will know it’s a trap,” Gwen said calmly, standing straight and tall as the queen she was.

“Yes. He will. But he will still come.”

Gwen swallowed. It was true. Arthur would certainly come for her. Despite everything that had happened, despite her betrayal of him with Lancelot, the memory of which still stung her cheeks with shame, Arthur loved her as dearly as she loved him. As she had never loved Lancelot. And Arthur would come.

“But first,” Morgana said, “they must pass through the impenetrable forest.” She smiled at Gwen. “We cannot make this _too_ easy for them, can we?” She took Gwen’s elbow and Gwen shook her off. Morgana gave her a sardonic smile and gestured toward the door on the other side of the room. “After you, my queen,” she said mockingly.

“Where are you taking me?” Gwen asked as she climbed up the twisting stair.

“You’ll find out.”

At the top of the stair, Morgana opened a door and ushered Gwen through. The room in which she found herself was dark, without any firelight. As her eyes adjusted, she saw in the torchlight from the stair that the room was large and without any furniture. Instead, strange shapes hung from the ceiling: weirdly-formed roots, dripping with some kind of hideous black mud. “What is this place?” she breathed.

“Sleep well,” Morgana said, and shut the door.

000

The knights had certainly not slept well the night before: Leon and Percival’s nightmare had deeply disturbed them all.

And that lack of sleep hadn’t helped today. It was getting dark, they seemed to be no closer to the end of the forest than they had been at noon, and now Arthur had found the bit of cloth that had been torn off of Gwaine’s cloak hours before.

“We have gone around in a circle!” he said, his voice growing louder in frustration. He threw his sword point-first into the ground. “We have wasted an entire day!” He sank to the ground in defeat, and Elyan joined him.

“Lets make camp for the night,” Leon suggested. “Get some rest and pick up fresh in the morning.”

Arthur didn’t respond. Merlin approached him. “I made you a promise. Remember?” Elyan looked up at him. “We will bring her home,” he repeated, and went to help the others build a camp.

Gwaine cornered him as they were clearing a space under the trees. “So what are you planning?” Gwaine asked in an undertone, making sure that the other knights were out of earshot. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what are you going to do to get us out of here? We’ve tried it Arthur’s way and it isn’t working.”

“What makes you think I know how to get us out of here?”

Gwaine frowned. “But you promised Arthur we’d find Gwen. I thought that meant—you were going to help.”

Merlin scowled. “I don’t know what I could do that would help. Besides, it’s too risky. Someone would see, or guess.”

“But that’s good, isn’t it?” Gwaine asked, and Merlin looked at him like he was crazy. “I mean, the Dís said you had to get Arthur to accept magic. Think about it: you use magic to save Guinevere. Arthur will be so grateful for your help that he’ll forgive you! It’ll make him open to the idea.” Merlin shook his head, looking down at his work. “You’ve got to do it sometime, right?” Gwaine continued. “And soon. Well, here’s a great opportunity!”

“Would you STOP?” Merlin snapped. He and Gwaine glared at one another for a moment and then looked up. The other knights were staring at them. Merlin got up and moved away.

000

Morgana sat before the fire, tapping her finger impatiently on the table. She knew it would be at least another day before Arthur and the knights arrived, but she was getting sick of waiting. She had known when she concocted this plan that the Dark Tower, being made entirely of fear, would affect her as well. She had decided that if she used it as a weapon against others, it couldn’t hurt her. But she hadn’t counted on it making it so difficult to wait.

And meanwhile, her mind kept running over and over her vision of Emrys. To distract herself, she glanced around the room. There was very little there; the decorators obviously hadn’t been at work in this tower. Her eyes alit on her table of belongings. She wasn’t sure why she had brought them with her; usually she left them at whatever place was her base of operations. But she was sort of between plans at the moment…

She found herself gazing at them, remembering where she had gotten them. All of them gifts from people she had once considered friends. All those people who had rejected her when she had discovered her magic—when she had discovered herself. But that would never happen again. If they could not love her, at least they would fear her: they would hate her. They certainly could not be indifferent. Morgana smirked. She was sure she would in their thoughts every day: when they looked at the fortifications around Camelot, when they saw the empty chair of one who would never return again, whom she had killed. Yes, they would fear and hate her. She had set out to make them do so, and she had succeeded. 

But had she really? She frowned. Mordred had not seemed afraid of her. He had seemed pitying. She stood up from her chair and paced around the room. Mordred knew more about Emrys than he let on, she was sure of it. And he had seemed so confident: so confident that she would lose. And wasn’t he right? Yes, she had spread fear and destruction in her wake, had succeeded in keeping herself in Arthur’s thoughts, had destroyed Uther… but so many of her plans did not succeed. She was not in control. Emrys was. And it made her afraid. She had decided, when she had elected to stay with Morgause, after Merlin had poisoned her, that she would learn magic, become as powerful as her sister, so that she need never fear again. Yet here she was, eaten up with terror at the thought of an adversary about whom she knew nothing.

No, that was not quite true. She knew one thing: the question Emrys was fated to ask her. “Is this what you wanted?” She feared that question above all else—because she feared the answer.

From the room above there was a shriek. At _last_. It was time to fetch some company for dinner. Morgana took a deep breath, smoothed down her dress, and headed up the stairs, fixing her face in her usual smirk: the smile that said she feared nothing, that she was in control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like it’s been a long time since I updated, but it hasn’t really. It’s just that I’ve had such an EVENTFUL week. I drove five hours, moved a bunch of furniture, locked myself out of my new apartment, drove five hours home, discovered that I had left my overnight bag there, hit a rabbit (first animal I’ve ever hit in 11 years of driving), and finally, was [in my first major car accident (got rear-ended)](http://artekka.tumblr.com/post/53021323310/i-had-an-exciting-ride-yesterday-morning-got). Despite all this, I am feeling uncharacteristically chipper. :P  
> Anyway, don’t worry: I’m still writing! And I have such fun stuff coming up! :)  
>  **Please review!**


	40. Chapter 40

Arthur seemed refreshed the next morning—or at least, newly determined to get through the blasted forest. He hacked and swung at the vines—many of them flying back into Gwaine’s face. He pushed them aside angrily. Everyone had been quiet since they awoke that morning, and Merlin seemed to be avoiding Gwaine. For his part, Gwaine wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or contrite.

Arthur paused at a slightly clearer space, thrusting his sword into the dirt and gazing up at the trees. “We need to find the clearing where we saw the Dolorous Plains.”

“Which way is that?” Elyan asked.

“North.”

The knights looked up at Merlin, who was standing on top of a rise above them. “Please.” Merlin’s voice was calm, confident. “I know I can get us there. I wouldn’t do anything to risk Gwen’s life. I can get us to the Dark Tower. I am certain.” The knights exchanged looks. “I know what Gwen means to you—to all of us.” He glanced around at the knights, his gaze lingering for a moment when it met Gwaine’s. “We need to head north.”

“Which way is that, Merlin?” Arthur said, and for once the question wasn’t mocking or sardonic. He honestly seemed to think Merlin would know.

“That way.” Merlin pointed. 

“No,” Arthur said, glancing up at the sky as the sun broke momentarily through the trees as it had not done all day the day before. It shone down on Arthur’s sword, which acted as a sundial. “It’s…” he pointed the same way Merlin had. “Over there. How on earth did you know that?!”

Merlin shrugged. “Sense of smell. When the wind is from the north you can smell the sea.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

Gwaine privately agreed, but Merlin had used more ridiculous excuses before, and people always seemed to buy them.

“Trust me, just this once,” Merlin said.

“Arthur, give him a chance,” Elyan decided. Usually Gwaine would join in at this point, but he simply watched to see what would happen.

“What choice do we have?” Leon said, a little less than enthusiastically, and they all drew their swords and started off after Merlin.  
Despite his lack of a sword, Merlin clambered over roots and around vines, always at the front of the group, through the forest. They always seemed to be going the wrong way, according to Gwaine’s own sense of direction, but after a short time they passed Percival’s broken sword.

“Merlin, you’re a genius,” Percival said, picking it up with a look of wonder.

In half an hour they had reached the clearing from which they could see their destination. Arthur, no longer questioning Merlin, clapped his hand on his shoulder. “Which way now?” was all he said.

A mere two hours later, they broke through the trees and stood on the Dolorous Plain, on the edge of the forest. Gwaine felt his heart swell with pride in Merlin’s accomplishment. He _knew_ Merlin could get them through—though he had still kept his magic secret. But at least he did it. 

None of the knights said anything as they headed out across the ground which was turning to arid sand, but they were all thinking the same thing. Merlin was a far more useful and talented person than they gave him credit for. His sense of direction was, apparently, miraculous. Leon, catching up, clapped Merlin on the back with a small smile as he passed. Merlin smiled back.

000

Gwen was screaming in the floor above, and this time the screaming didn’t stop. Morgana smiled and climbed the stairs to Gwen’s prison. Gwen had rejected her the last time, but she was close to the breaking point. Morgana could feel it. This time she would accept Morgana—would do whatever she told her. When Arthur and his most trusted knights arrived, Morgana would kill them. Gwen would return to Camelot, and under her orders, make a pretense of ruling for awhile, all the time slowly preparing the people from Morgana’s arrival. Then Morgana would take the throne, with Gwen as her puppet, persuading the people to accept Morgana as their rightful queen: the heir to Uther’s throne.

When Morgana threw the door open, Gwen sprang up from the floor and ran to her, throwing herself into Morgana’s arms, sobbing.

“My darling,” Morgana cooed, “do you see now? Everyone you have ever loved will betray you. None of them truly loves you back. They will mock you and reject you when you need them most. I am the only one who will come to your rescue.” Gwen was nodded against her shoulder, still sobbing. “There, there. Let us go down and have something to eat.” Morgana led Gwen down the stairs and sat her gently in a chair by the fire.

When Gwen had eaten something and had calmed herself, Morgana explained her plan. “Arthur and his knights are coming right now to _save_ you from me,” she concluded.

Gwen shook her head. “I want nothing to do with them. I want to stay here, with you!”

“You must go back to Camelot,” Morgana insisted. “It is the only way. You must prepare my people for their true queen.” Gwen nodded regretfully. “But do not worry,” Morgana added, taking her hand. “First, we will kill Arthur and his knights.”

Gwen looked up with a smile. “How?” she asked wonderingly. “Will you simply throw them backward?”

“No, that is far too quick,” Morgana replied. “Here, help me move this table.”

They pushed the table and the chairs against one wall of the room, and Morgana drew out a pedestal from the corner. There was a cloth draped over the top, and she removed it to reveal a crystal ball.

“This crystal will amplify my powers,” Morgana explained. “It will allow me to keep them frozen in place. Then,” she added, smiling, “we may do what we like with them.” Gwen smiled back.

“But how do you know they will come?” she asked. “They will know it’s a trap. Won’t they elude it?”

“Ah, but I have already prepared for that,” Morgana answered. “I have made it very difficult for them to reach us. They will believe that my tests were the trap.”

“The impenetrable forest and the vast desert?” 

“Yes. And more than that. They do not know the entrance to this tower that we used. They must come up through some very dangerous rooms before they reach us. First, there is a great hall where hidden crossbows will shoot at them when they step upon the floor. Then, I have enchanted a sword in the room below us: it will fight to the death with whomever comes through the door first.” She indicated a small window in one wall of the room—a window that Gwen had not noticed before, as it did not look out into the sunlight, but into another part of the tower. “You can see the sword through there,” she added, and Gwen walked over to it. Sure enough, through the arrow slit she could look down on the room below them. Flashing in the light she could see a sword which moved slightly in midair, as if held by some unseen champion. “You may stand there and watch if you like,” Morgana added. “I must prepare for my spell.” She leant over the crystal and began to chant quietly as Gwen looked out the window and waited for her rescuers to arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhhhhh, Morgana’s magical Stockholm Syndrome.


	41. Chapter 41

“ELYAN!” Arthur shouted as Elyan disappeared through the doorway.

“Careful!” Merlin cautioned as an arrow sped past Arthur’s face.

“We have to get to him,” Arthur said, leaping forward to where he had thrown his sword and tossing it to another flagstone. “He could be walking straight into a trap!”

“I’ll catch him,” Merlin said, tossing his belt to the last flagstone. He was farther along the room than any of the others.

“Just stop him and hold him back—don’t go on without us!” Arthur ordered as Merlin dashed through the door and up the stairs to the next level.

As he threw the door open, a strange sight met his eyes: Elyan was fighting with an invisible foe. Or rather, Merlin realized, as he watched, the sword was enchanted to move on its own. It flew through the air faster and more freely than it ever could have done if it were wielded by a man. The fight was hardly fair, but Elyan was a formidable swordsman: as Merlin watched, he ducked under the spinning blade. He countered its blows repeatedly, but at last it flew forward, about to stab him in the chest. Merlin exerted himself, and at the last moment the blade slipped sideways, merely catching the outside of Elyan’s left arm. Ducking under the sword again, Elyan leapt to the window and opened one of the wooden shutters. The sword lunged at him, he parried it, and it flew far out the window. Elyan slammed the shutter closed and thrust the wooden bolt home. Then he leaned, panting, against the wall. The sword blade pierced the shutter—and was still.

“Elyan! Are you hurt?” Arthur had caught up, and crossed the room toward his brother-in-law.

“I’m fine,” Elyan panted as Merlin tried to get a look at the cut through his chainmail. “It’s just a scratch.” He laughed breathlessly. “Lucky that thing wasn’t enchanted to have perfect aim!”

“He’s alright,” Merlin confirmed, and Arthur grinned and clapped Elyan on the back. 

“You’re a hero. Now stop with the heroics, and let’s do the rest of this together!”

Elyan laughed again. “Yes, Sire.”

000

“Who is it fighting the sword?” Morgana asked from her position by the crystal.

“Elyan,” Gwen said dully.

“Really?” Morgana asked in mild surprise. “I would have thought Arthur would have been in the vanguard. No matter,” she added, shrugging; “this means that we can have some more fun with Arthur before he dies. But isn’t your brother eager to drag you back to your sham marriage?” she added. “Probably just to bolster his own social position in Camelot. It’s useful, being the Queen’s brother. How is he doing?” she asked.

“He has beaten it,” Gwen answered. “He has survived.”

“Not for long,” Morgana smirked. 

000

“Keep together,” Arthur cautioned in a low voice as he led the way up the stairs. “It’s very dark up here.” 

There was a grunt from behind him as Percival, being helped along on his bad leg by Leon, stubbed his toe. “No kidding,” Percival grumbled.

“We’re at the top.”

“Are there any torches?” Merlin asked, feeling along the wall as the other knights joined them in the pitch blackness.

“Many,” a feminine voice answered, and the knights reeled backward as light flared up all about them. “ _Gestedigaþ,/em >,” she commanded, and Merlin found himself unable to move. He could not lift a hand or a foot; he could not turn his head or open his mouth. The only thing that would move was his eyes. _

_And what he saw was Morgana, standing over a crystal ball, with Gwen behind her, looking on impassively. Merlin couldn’t move his head to see Arthur’s reaction, but he heard him vocalize wordlessly._

_“We _did_ so hope you’d come,” Morgana said, stepping around the pedestal on which the crystal sat. “Didn’t we, Gwen?”_

_“Indeed,” Gwen said calmly._

_“And what shall we do with them, now that we have them?”_

_Guinevere smiled. “I’ll leave that to you—Sister.”_

_Arthur made a strangled noise that sounded like Gwen’s name. Morgana smiled and stepped up to him. “You see, Arthur? With my help, Gwen has learned to see through your show of love to the evil that lies beneath it.” She leaned in and said delightedly, “First she cuckolded you: now she kills you. Fitting, isn’t it?”_

_Arthur, unable to struggle, gave an inarticulate cry of rage as Morgana stepped back, gazing at him approvingly. “I think it will be more fun to save Arthur for last, don’t you think, Gwen?”_

_“Certainly.”_

_Was it possible for him to break the spell, Merlin wondered? Could he gather enough power to move, to stop Morgana? And could he do it without her noticing? He couldn’t risk her discovering that he was Emrys…_

_“Gwen, would you like to do the honors on the first one?” Morgana asked, looking over the knights appraisingly. “…Gwen?”_

_She turned around to see Guinevere standing with the crystal in her hands and a look of determination on her face. “Gwen, what are you—”_

_“Do you really think I’m that stupid?” Gwen said scornfully, and hurled the crystal to the floor with all her strength._

_The spell was broken in a moment, and the knights all brandished their swords. Morgana fled to the opposite side of the room, throwing her hand out in a gesture as if she would cast them all backwards—but the spell to hold them frozen must have taken up all her power. Nothing happened._

_“ _How?_ ” she spat at Guinevere. “How did you resist the mandrake roots?”_

_Gwen pushed back her narrow sleeve. On her wrist was the bracelet Morgause had given to her sister: the bracelet that kept away frightening visions. “You’re not the only one who knows how to deceive, Morgana.”_

_Morgana turned even whiter than before in her fury. “Well,” she said at last, holding down her anger but still spitting out the words, “You never _could_ resist a pretty bracelet, I suppose.”_

_Gwen frowned. “Bracelet… cuckolded… You!” She took a step forward. “You raised Lancelot from the dead— _You_ gave him that bracelet to give to me! It was a love spell! You _manipulated_ me—and now you tried to do it again! To brainwash me, control my body against my will—!”_

_Morgana shrugged one shoulder, her lips tightly closed in anger. “Took you long enough to figure it out,” she said._

_Gwen’s nostril’s flared. She sprang at the table in the corner, snatched up the knife that lay on it, and flew at her. Morgana clutched at a stone that hung around her neck and cried out some word that was lost in a sudden rush of wind. Gwen was forced backward and the knights all shielded their faces as Morgana’s robes flew about her and she disappeared from sight._

_When the rushing had stopped and the room was quiet once more, Elyan stepped forward cautiously. He took the knife from Gwen’s hand and threw it aside She turned and hugged him. “Thank you,” she said quietly. He kissed her forehead. Gwen turned toward Arthur, who was looking at her with an ineffable and tender expression._

_“Gwen?” he said, and opened his arms. She ran to him and they held each other tightly for a long time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come on, you didn’t _really_ think I was going to let Elyan die and Gwen get brainwashed, did you? ;)


	42. Chapter 42

When Arthur and Gwen finally broke apart and had wiped at their eyes, the knights crowded around them to congratulate their queen.

“Thank you, gentlemen, for my rescue,” she said affectionately.

“You didn’t seem to need too much help!” Gwaine exclaimed, and they all laughed, relief making them giddy.

“Let’s congratulate each other later,” Leon suggested with a chuckle. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’d like to get out of this tower.”

“Agreed.” Arthur turned back toward the door they had come in through.

“No—there’s another way,” Gwen said, stopping him with a hand on his arm. “Morgana used it to get us up here.” She walked over to the far wall and pushed aside a tapestry. Behind was a door leading to a long stair.

“Oh, God,” Percival groaned from the back of the group.

“You’d rather go back across the Death-Floor?” Leon asked, pulling Percival’s arm more securely over his shoulder.

“Never mind,” Percival said quickly.

“This doesn’t lead to the front entrance,” Arthur observed as Gwen led them to the bottom of the stair.

“No; we came in the back way.”

“I am _not_ looking forward to going back through the desert. _Or_ the impenetrable forest,” Elyan murmured.

“Oh, Morgana mentioned the forest,” Gwen said as they stepped out of the tower—into the cool of evening. Rather than the endless plain they had crossed to reach the tower, they were in a forest. Not an impenetrable one, but a perfectly normal, and rather familiar, forest.

The knights looked around in confusion. “This isn’t far from where we left the horses,” Gwaine said dazedly.

Arthur laughed in delight. “Morgana certainly knows how to make a shortcut! Let’s make camp here and fetch the horses in the morning,” he decided.

The knights made camp and gathered firewood themselves as Merlin at last saw to Percival’s leg. “You need to stay off of it as much as possible, and keep it clean,” he declared. “The biggest danger right now is the risk of infection.”

“Supper’s ready,” Leon announced, and Percival moved to stand.

“No, no,” Gwaine said, holding him back. “You heard what Merlin said.” He grinned. “Don’t worry; we’ll be your ladies in waiting.”

“Here,” Merlin said, reaching to fetch him some food.

“No, no,” Leon said, swatting his hand away. “After your fantastic performance today, you deserve a little break.” He served up Percival’s food himself.

“Performance?” Gwen asked from her seat across the fire as Gwaine and Leon passed around the supper. Arthur sat with his arm around her, smiling with contentment at the scene.

“Merlin managed to navigate through the impenetrable forest on his own, in just a couple of hours,” Elyan explained. “We had been wandering lost in it for a _day_.”

“How did he achieve this great feat?” she wanted to know.

“Sense of smell, if you can believe it,” Arthur answered.

“I’m amazed that washing your dirty socks didn’t destroy that _years_ ago,” Gwaine quipped with a teasing grin. Everyone laughed, Arthur included. 

“Careful how you talk about your liege lord’s socks,” Arthur warned him. “You might be ordered to wash them yourself!”

Gwaine gave a dramatic shudder. “No, thank you. I scrubbed all the knights’ boots once, remember?”

“Yes. You were terrible at it.”

“It was bootless, eh?” Elyan grinned. The knights gave a unanimous groan.

“Save us from your brother’s puns!” Percival begged Guinevere.

“I don’t mind them. I’m immune.”

“How?”

“Long years of exposure. Like Mithridates,” Arthur explained, laughing.

“Same with her husband's socks!” Leon exclaimed.

“Or maybe it’s the bracelet,” Gwen suggested. “Oh, you needn’t look so uncomfortable,” she added as the knights exchanged looks. “I don’t mind talking about the tower.”

“Are you sure?” Arthur said. “Because you needn’t talk about it if you don’t want to—”

“No, no,” she said, waving away his concern. “I _was_ a little frightened at first,” she admitted. “But the bracelet made everything easier.”

“How _did_ you come by it?” Elyan wanted to know.

“There was a table in her room—the room she kept the crystal in. It was covered in a jumble of her things. Most of them were gifts—from the old days. Things from you, and your father, and even me,” she added to Arthur. “I would have thought she would have thrown them all away long ago.”

“Reminders of her hatred for us,” Arthur said quietly.

“Perhaps,” Gwen said, not quite sounding convinced. “In any case, I recognized the bracelet and remembered that it had kept away her nightmares. I had some inkling it would be useful, so I put it on and pulled my sleeve down over it. She didn’t see it when she took me up to the room she kept me in. There were some sort of—ugly roots hanging from the ceiling, covering in a dripping, black mud.”

“Mandrakes,” Merlin said, and they all turned to look at him. “Something Morgana said,” he explained, turning pink. “She mentioned mandrake roots. Gaius told me once that they were sometimes used in rituals in the Old Religion to cause terrifying hallucinations.”

“Bad dreams,” Arthur said slowly. “So that bracelet protected you from them!”

Gwen nodded. “When I had been in the upper room for awhile I took off the bracelet to get a better look at it in the moonlight. The moment I removed it, I heard horrible screaming sounds. I put it back on again, and they—stopped.” She shook her head. “So I sat and thought about it. Clearly Morgana was using some sort of magic to try to frighten me. So every time she came to the upper room to see me, I pretended to be more and more frightened. I disarranged my hair, I screamed… I even took off my bracelet once or twice more.” The other exclaimed at this. “I know, it was risky. But I needed to make my reactions seem real. It worked.” She shuddered. “The next time I took it off, I saw of vision of Elyan. He said he had come to rescue me—only then he began laughing. It was horrible—mocking, madness…” She shook herself. “But I had only to remember _that_ when I wanted to look frightened.” She shrugged. “It fooled Morgana.”

“I’ll say it did,” Arthur agreed, hugging her closer to him. “She’s so puffed up in her own conceit, she didn’t consider that you might have outwitted her. But you proved yourself a worthy adversary.”

“Especially when you went after her with a knife!” Elyan said with a grin.

“She provoked me!” Gwen laughed.

“Only _you_ would feel the need of an excuse,” Arthur teased.

Merlin grinned as he watched his friends laugh and tease one another. Gwaine had been right; using magic to get them through the forest had been worth the risk. He glanced up at Gwaine and caught his eye accidentally. Gwaine, who had been laughing at a comment Percival had made, pressed his lips into a slightly strained smile, and Merlin returned it. He should apologize for snapping at him—but it could wait until morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has passed 50,000 words. That means it’s now the length of a short novel!


	43. Chapter 43

Despite the fatigues of the day before, they were all up bright and early the next morning. They had a bite to eat, searched out their former campsite, caught the horses, and were off. Gwen rode perched behind Arthur, the two of them laughing and joking the whole time. Gwaine hadn’t seen them so giddy since their wedding. It was the relief of knowing that Guinevere’s infidelity had been none of her doing: they both looked as if a weight had been lifted from their shoulders. The mood was infectious: they were a merry band as they entered Camelot. The people, seeing their smiles and then spotting Guinevere, began to cheer. Gwen smiled and waved gaily to the crowds that began to gather, lining the streets of the lower town.

Most of the castle staff, having heard the commotion, were in the courtyard when they rode in. Someone began three cheers for the Queen, then the King, and the knights. One wag even shouted, “And three cheers for the manservant!” and a small group gave Merlin a huzzah. Everyone was laughing and shouting with glee. Anna ran over and gave Gwaine a kiss as he dismounted, and Merlin a hug, before directing some of the servants to help Percival up to the infirmary. Elyan, his arm wrapped around a beaming Tirion, followed her up to have his wound seen to.

Gwaine had thought he might finally corner Merlin and apologize to him, but he found himself surrounded by a crowd of servants, congratulating him and all the other knights. When he was finally at liberty again, Merlin had slipped away. He was awfully good at that, Gwaine reflected.

Merlin, as it turned out, took care of it himself. He caught up with Gwaine in the practice field that afternoon, as Gwaine was headed down to the blacksmith to have some chainmail repaired.

“Look, Gwaine, I’m sorry I snapped at you the other day,” he said before Gwaine could get a word out. “You were—you were probably right. It would have been a good moment. But I just… couldn’t.”

“No, I understand. You’ve been keeping it secret so long, it must be a habit—”

“No, it’s more than that,” Merlin said, rubbing hand over his face. “I… um… I had a chance to get Arthur to accept magic once before, and I failed. And it made him even more resistant, and I was afraid…”

“That it would happen again,” Gwaine finished. “When was this?”

“When Uther died.” Merlin wasn’t making eye contact, and Gwaine could see that he was close to tears. “I thought I could save him, and Arthur said… that if I saved Uther, he would see to it that magic was legalized. But Morgana had already taken precautions and it backfired—and it killed him.” He looked up at Gwaine. “I killed him. I didn’t mean to…”

Gwaine took him by the shoulder. “You didn’t,” he said, giving him a shake. “And just because it didn’t work that once doesn’t mean it never will. You are closer to Arthur than anyone, except Gwen. I’m sure you can convince him.”

“And I need to,” Merlin said, nodding. “I need to, soon. Maybe very soon. I just… don’t know if I can… have the courage.”

“Merlin, you are the bravest man I know,” Gwaine said, lowering his head to catch his eyes again. “I know that you’re afraid you’ll lose Arthur’s friendship, and I know how much it means to you.”

“I can’t lose him Gwaine,” Merlin gulped.

“You _won’t_.” Gwaine gave him another shake. “But you have lied to him for too long. You need to tell him the truth.” Merlin nodded, and Gwaine gave him a heartening slap on the back. “Good. Now, help me convince this mule-headed blacksmith that I need my chainmail mended _now_ , and not in two weeks!” he said, taking Merlin’s elbow and dragging him along. “Let’s see you practice your persuasion.”

000

No fewer than seven people asked Merlin over the course of the next week if it was true that Morgana had admitted to putting a love spell on Guinevere and Lancelot. Of course, they also wanted to know if it was true that Guinevere drew Elyan’s sword and threatened Morgana with death if she touched Arthur. And if Guinevere had turned Morgana’s own enchantments against her, so that any evil spell she put on her enemies would rebound on her. And if the skies above the Dark Tower had rained frogs, blood, and burning hail. Merlin told them the bit about the love potion was true, but left them to believe what they wanted about the rest. He was sure it would turn into a fantastic legend in time. In any case, Guinevere had never been so popular among the people—and that was saying something. As one of them, a commoner, and a kind and wise woman who clearly had their best interests at heart, Guinevere had (almost) always been well-liked. Now they adored her.

They flocked to the Great Hall the evening after the Queen’s return to toast the success of the mission. After all the other toasts had been said, Arthur stood.

“One knight of our number performed most bravely in the rescue of our Queen,” he declared. “Single-handedly, he outwitted and defeated an unkillable foe. He is a loyal and doughty knight, and I am proud to call him my brother.” The people cheered for Sir Elyan, and Percival, sitting next to him, clapped him on the back. “And I will also be proud to call his wife my sister.” Over the murmuring, Arthur continued, “Sir Elyan asked me this morning for the official permission of the Crown to marry, and I gladly granted it.” Elyan rose and walked around to where Tirion was sitting, blushing rosily and smiling from ear to ear. He took her hand and raised her from her seat as Arthur raised his cup. “To Sir Elyan and Lady Tirion. To their health and happiness, and their enduring love for one another.”

The people broke into cheers, the knights leaping to their feet to applaud. The people came forward to congratulate the happy couple, Gwen giving Tirion a big hug and Arthur laying a fraternal kiss on her cheek.

“Three cheers for the happy couple!” Arthur cried.

000

Arthur and Guinevere’s good mood lasted more than a week. Arthur didn’t even snap at Merlin when he came into Arthur’s room to clear away his breakfast one morning without knocking. He found Gwen perched on Arthur’s knee, clearly teasing him about something while combing out his hair.

“Knock, can’t you,” Arthur grumbled good-naturedly.

“Good morning, Merlin,” Gwen said with a smile, not bothering to get down.

“Good morning.” He began clearing away the half-eaten food.

“I wasn’t done with that!” Arthur exclaimed as Merlin took his plate of eggs.

“I don’t think you have time to finish it,” Gwen commented as she stood up and shook out her gown. “We have that meeting with the Council in five minutes.”

“I have to get my jacket on,” Arthur told her. “You go ahead.”

“She seems to have recovered well from her ordeal,” Merlin commented when Gwen was out of the room.

“Yes.” Arthur shrugged on his crimson jacket and placed his crown on his head. “Only…”

“Only what?”

He looked concerned. “Sometimes I find her staring off into space. I ask her what she’s thinking about and she jumps and then tells me it’s nothing. But I think something may be troubling her.”

“I would have said she was delightfully happy,” Merlin offered.

Arthur smiled. “She is. We both are. But still, there’s something on her mind.”

000

Elyan’s wedding took place at the end of the week. It was a grand affair, with music, feasting, and flowers. Tirion, as the wife of a knight, was officially styled “Lady Tirion,” and was made a ceremonial lady-in-waiting to the Queen. The feast ended in dancing. Merlin, standing at the side of the room with a pitcher of wine, watched Elyan dancing with Tirion and remembered the last wedding he had been to: Arthur and Gwen’s. He had asked Sifa to dance, but she hadn’t known how. It was just after he had learned that she would be Gwen’s personal attendant. He wondered where she was and what she was doing.

Glancing up from his brown study, he found Guinevere’s eyes on him. He smiled and she returned it, but her smile seemed a little forced, and she almost looked as though she were measuring him up.

“Merlin!” Gwaine clapped him on the back, causing him to jump. “Oops! Sorry.”

“That’s alright,” Merlin laughed. “Just as long as I haven’t spilled the wine!”

“What were you staring at?”

Merlin looked back toward the head table, but Gwen was in laughing conversation with Sir Leon. “Nothing,” he said.

000

Over the course of the next week, Merlin began to notice Gwen’s eyes on him as he went about his daily tasks. Once she asked him his opinion of an issue that was being debated in the Council.

“You said she seemed impressed by the story of you leading them through the Impenetrable Forest,” Gaius said when a puzzled Merlin told him about Gwen’s attentions to him. “Perhaps she is considering whether you would make a good royal advisor.” Merlin raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Gaius grinned. “Or maybe she’s going to ask Arthur to give you a raise.”

Merlin laughed. “I think the advisor theory is more likely! Frankly, I’d settle for a day off once in awhile.”

000

Two days later, he was cleaning up Arthur’s room in the morning while Arthur was training with the knights. 

“Always the clothes on the floor,” he grumbled as he picked up one of Arthur’s shirts.

“I’m afraid he’s a hopeless case,” Gwen said, coming in through the door that connected her room with Arthur’s.

“Oh! Sorry. I didn’t know you were there,” Merlin said, straightening up.

“No matter. I’m glad to find you here, though,” she said, sitting down at the table. “May I speak to you for a moment?”

“Of course,” Merlin said, setting down the laundry basket. Gwen gestured him to a seat and he took it, warily. She looked down at her hands for a long moment, then up at his face again. “There is no easy way to begin this conversation,” she said calmly, “so I must simply ask. Merlin, do you have magic?”


	44. Chapter 44

Merlin felt himself blanch. “I—what?” He summoned up a laugh. “No, of course not. What gave you that idea?”

“Merlin.” She wasn’t buying it. “Do you remember shaking hands when you were in the stocks? Coming to me for help figuring out Arthur’s armor? The time I was so relieved that you had survived being poisoned that I kissed you?” She smiled at him, though he could see the steel beneath. “We were friends from the first day we met—longer than you’ve been friends with Arthur. For the sake of that friendship, tell me the truth.”

He swallowed hard. “Yes,” he said at last, meeting her eye as steadily as he could. “I have magic.” Despite her calm demeanor, Merlin thought she blanched at his answer. “How did you guess?”

“I saw you,” she answered. “When Elyan was fighting the enchanted sword in the Dark Tower, Morgana let me watch through a hidden window. I saw you run in—and I thought I saw your eyes glow. That was when the sword struck Elyan’s arm. He told me later it was heading directly toward his heart and only moved aside at the very last moment. So I began to think: of all the times something inexplicable had happened when you were near. Of all the strange things I had heard you say or do… Like when I was fighting Morgana after she took over Camelot. She disarmed me, was about to kill me—and then she flew backward through the air. The same way I have seen her fling people back with her magic. And I turned, and you were there. I thought it was coincidence… now I wonder why I never figured it out before.” She took a deep breath. “Who taught you magic?”

“No one,” he said. “I was born with it.”

That gave her pause. “And you have used it,” she said at last—stating, not asking. “You have used it, repeatedly, in the domains of Camelot and within the city and even the castle itself.”

His throat was dry. “Yes.”

She took a deep breath, and her face looked strained. “Tell me, Merlin. Did you have anything to do with… to do with my father’s death?”

“No,” he said quickly. “No, I didn’t. I’m so sorry, Gwen—Your Majesty. I did use magic on him once—when he was sick from the plague that struck the town’s water supply. I cured him—and you were blamed. I’m so sorry,” he repeated.

“That’s why you tried to take the blame yourself,” she realized.

“It was my fault,” Merlin repeated, his eyes filling with tears.

“But the plague was not. And you saved my father. And my brother. And myself.” He looked up at her in confusion. “You do understand, Merlin,” she said slowly, “that I am the Queen, and responsible for upholding the laws of Camelot. The use of magic is illegal, no matter what it is used for.” Merlin nodded, unable to meet her eyes. He could feel his stomach clenching in fear. “But you are a dear friend,” she continued gently, “and I believe you have always had the good of your friends, your king, and Camelot at heart. So I will give you a week.” He looked up. “A week in which to tell Arthur the truth. If you have not told him of your magic by a week from today, I will tell him myself.” She looked down and ran her finger absently over the braid on her sleeve. “However, if you disappeared within that time… no one would be sent to bring you back.”

He swallowed hard. “I wouldn’t leave,” he answered.

Gwen smiled. “I had hoped you would say that.” She stood. “I will arrange a chance for you and Arthur to be alone for awhile—you can tell him then.”

He stood as well on shaky knees. “Thank you, my lady,” he managed. She gave him a small smile and left the room. Merlin sank back into the chair and dropped his head on his arms.

000

Anna looked up from the herbs she was grinding when the door swung open. “Oh, there you are,” she said, looking back down at the mortar. “Arthur was here half an hour ago looking for you.”

“Oh.”

Gaius looked up curiously at his monosyllabic apprentice. “Gwen didn’t actually _do_ it, did she?” he asked incredulously.

Merlin jumped. “What? Do what?” he asked, almost wildly.

Anna and Gaius were both staring at him now. “Offer you a raise,” Gaius answered.

“Oh. No.”

“Are you alright?” Anna asked, beating Gaius to the punch. “You’re perfectly white.”

“I just have a bit of a headache,” he said, moving over to the shelves and turning his back toward them.

“Really?” Gaius looked worried. “I’ve never known you to be sick a day in your life.”

“It’s fine. I’m just tired.”

“So where were you?” Gaius asked, turning back to his own work. “Arthur said you didn’t even make his bed.”

He only grunted in reply.

“MERLIN!”

“Better come up with a better answer quick,” Anna hissed as Arthur burst into the room.

“Merlin, where have you been?” Arthur demanded. “Taking a walk?”

“Yeah.”

“That wasn’t a better answer,” Anna muttered.

Arthur heaved a sigh and grabbed Merlin’s ear. “Let’s go.”

“Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-owwww!!” Merlin complained as Arthur dragged him out of the room.

“Don’t be such a baby,” Arthur’s voice floated up from the stairs.

Anna and Gaius looked at one another and shrugged.

000

“A hunting trip.”

“Yes.” It was clear Arthur’s good mood of the past week or two was gone. “A hunting trip.”

“Why?” Leon asked. Merlin, pouring the wine, tried to look like he wasn’t eavesdropping.

“She says I don’t get out enough. And since Morgana will still be recovering from her most recent defeat, it’s a safer time to do it.”

“Don’t get out enough?” Leon grinned. “Maybe she’s implying something…” 

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” he said dangerously.

“Yes. Something about the holes in your belt.” He grinned mischievously. “Eh, Merlin?”

“What?” Merlin jumped when Leon nudged him, spilling Leon’s wine on the tablecloth.

“Merlin!” Arthur complained.

“Sorry.” He mopped at it.

“There’s the real punishment,” Arthur grumbled: “I have to take this bungling fool with me.”

“Oh, come on. He’s not that bad,” Leon said. “I just jostled his arm, that’s all.”

“He scares off all the game within a three mile radius!” Arthur exclaimed.

“Oh, we’ll keep him quiet.” Leon smiled up at Merlin in thanks as Merlin refilled his cup.

“No, you won’t. That’s the worst part,” Arthur grouched. “Gwen says I should just take Merlin. Nobody else. Something about getting back to nature and knowing my land better.”

“You’re just in a bad mood because you’re going to be away from Gwen for a couple of days,” Leon said astutely. Arthur muttered incoherently into his cup. “I’m sure once you’re out there you’ll have a great time together. Isn’t that right?” he asked, looking up at Merlin for confirmation.

“Absolutely,” Merlin said, but his grin was forced.


	45. Chapter 45

“Usually I trust Gwen’s judgment implicitly,” Arthur said in a measured way as the deer disappeared into the undergrowth. Merlin, who had just stepped on a brittle twig, watched it go in chagrin. “But this hunting trip may be the most ridiculous thing she’s ever suggested.”

“Sorry,” Merlin muttered.

“Why are _you_ apologizing?” Merlin looked at him in surprise. “You can’t help it you were born an idiot.” He marched away. Merlin sighed and rolled his eyes. “What, no snappy comeback?” Arthur said after a moment. “Aren’t you going to call me a clotpole?”

“Thought you told me that was treasonous.”

“What’s gotten into you? Why the sullen mood?”

“You’re asking _me?_ ” Merlin grumbled. Arthur had been in a terrible mood all day. He was beginning to regret not having told Arthur his secret immediately after they saved Gwen, while he was still beaming at everyone and everything.

“I’ve got it.” Arthur stopped and turned around, bringing Merlin up short. “You’re scaring the game off on purpose.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you don’t want to clean it.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to clean it?” Merlin said, hefting the two rabbits on a string that Arthur had actually managed to bag despite Merlin’s noisy movement through the forest. “Why would I try to avoid scraping the guts out of a dead animal? It’s simply _delightful_. You should try it sometime.”

Arthur bridled. “Why would I do that? That’s what _you’re_ here for.” He started walking again. “It’s starting to get dark. We might as well find a place to make camp; I’m clearly not going to bag any more game today.”

Arthur chose a small clearing to camp in, and sent Merlin off for firewood. “And you’d better hurry,” he added. “It’ll be dark soon, and I’d like to have those rabbits for supper.”

_Definitely_ should have told him earlier, Merlin decided as he began gathering firewood. How was he even supposed to bring the topic up? “Hey Arthur, I’m a wizard! Sorry I’ve been lying to you since we met.”

Initially, he had thought he could convince Arthur to legalize magic on abstract arguments. Get him to see that it wasn’t all evil, help him to understand that it was necessary for the kingdom, show him that it could be used for good. Then, once the law was passed, Merlin could let him in on the secret—maybe through some off-hand, minor use of magic. Some charming illusion or something. Now, however, that was out of the question. 

He could still try just showing him some little piece of magic. But how? “Hey Arthur, wanna see me start this fire without a tinderbox?”

No. There had to be some better way to introduce the subject. And he should probably get Arthur in a better mood, first. Do a really good job cooking the rabbits, tease Arthur a little—just enough to amuse him, not enough to annoy him. Then he should ease into the topic. He could bring up some recent, obvious good he had done with his magic. Talk about how great it was that Gwen was back, safe and sound. Then go for it: “So, Arthur—when I got us through the Impenetrable Forest… I told you a little fib. I didn’t do it by smell.” “How did you do it, then?” “Through a sixth sense.” “A sixth sense?—laughing—You don’t even use the senses you’ve got! And where did you acquire this sixth sense?” “I was born with it.” “What is it?” “Magic.” Then the storm would break.

That was it. That was how he would bring it up. Pleased with himself for finding a solution that didn’t make him cringe, Merlin looked up—and discovered that night had fallen. He had wandered heedlessly, far from the campsite—and had only half as much wood as he should have collected.

Well _that_ wouldn’t endear him to Arthur, he thought with a sigh. He would be livid. Merlin turned around and headed back toward the campsite.

As he approached, he could see light through the trees. Arthur had gotten sick of waiting for him, then, and built the fire. But as he neared the campsite, he realized it wasn’t a solitary fire he was seeing—it was a few of them, and they were moving. Torches. Who was it? Some knights from Camelot come to bring news? A convoy of merchants?

Merlin tripped over something in the darkness and dropped his armful of wood. Cursing and feeling around, he discovered the object he had tripped over: his knapsack. He had reached the campsite. But where was Arthur?

The torches suddenly closed in around him, and Merlin found himself surrounded in the darkness by a dozen bandits. One of them, the leader, was brandishing a familiar-looking sword. Even the dark Merlin recognized it: Excalibur. The bandit gestured to one of his comrades, and the other made dragged someone into the circle of torchlight. It was Arthur, gagged and bound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, short chapter. But it was the best place to break. Thank you for the kudos guys—I really appreciate it! :)


	46. Chapter 46

“Where _is_ he?” Arthur growled into the darkness. Merlin should have been back with the firewood at _least_ twenty minutes ago. Well, _he_ wasn’t going out searching for him. Arthur, unbuckling his sword, leaned back against a tree and stretched his legs out in front of him. When Merlin came back, he would just have the task of lighting the fire by himself in the dark, that was all. And serve him right for being so sullen today.

Alright, so that wasn’t entirely his fault, Arthur had to admit. He himself had been in a rotten mood, and had taken it out on Merlin. And Merlin hadn’t been sullen; he had been silent. That could mean a myriad of things, but it was unlikely Merlin was sulking. He didn’t sulk. If he had a grievance, he told Arthur what it was. Arthur smiled in spite of himself. Much as he complained when Merlin called him a clotpole or a dollophead, he really didn’t mind. At least he knew Merlin was always honest with him. There was no sycophancy there. And Merlin always had his best interests at heart, much as his methods occasionally annoyed him.

Where _was_ he, anyway? Arthur got up and wandered over to the edge of the clearing, in the direction Merlin had disappeared in three quarters of an hour ago. He hoped he hadn’t run into any trouble. 

There was a sound in the underbrush off to his right, and Arthur moved a few steps in that direction. “Merlin?” he called. “Is that you?”

Something heavy struck him in the head from behind. Arthur fell to his knees, dazed. He reached for his sword, but it wasn’t there—he had unbuckled it, he realized. _No wonder Father always told me his father-in-law Aurelianus slept with his sword on,_ he thought vaguely as a couple of pairs of hands grabbed his arms and tied them behind him. He found himself looking up into the grinning, filthy face of a bandit.

_Not Merlin, then_ , he thought obscurely.

“Ah, what have we here?” the bandit said gleefully. “A pretty knight in shiny mail! I’m sure King Arthur will pay well for your ransom: they say he’s a loyal and generous king. And who is Merlin? Another knight?”

“My se—squire,” Arthur said, pulling himself together. If the bandits knew he was the king, they would either kill him, as too dangerous a victim, or require a ransom that the kingdom would have difficulty paying. Better they thought him simply a knight.

One of the other bandits handed their leader Arthur’s sword. The bandit drew it from its sheath and brandished it. “Clearly a man of some wealth! And what is your name, Sir Knight?” the bandit asked. 

“Aurelianus.” He used the first name that came into his head. “Sir Aurelianus de Bois.” When Camelot got word that Arthur’s grandfather, who had been dead for thirty years, had been kidnapped and was being held to ransom, they would surely be able to figure out who it really was the bandits had caught.

“Alright, _Sir_ Aurelianus,” the bandit said as his men stuffed a gag in Arthur’s mouth. “We’ll send word to your king immediately.”

Arthur stifled a sigh. Kidnapped by bandits in his own kingdom. It was too embarrassing.

“Someone’s coming,” one of the bandits hissed.

“Merlin, no doubt,” the leader said. “Scatter.” The bandits disappeared into the darkness.

The bandits had taken the torches with them, and Arthur couldn’t see anything in the darkness. The gag prevented him from shouting and warning Merlin of the danger he was in. Arthur tensed his body to struggled against the two men holding him, but in an instant he felt the cold steel of a knife blade at his throat. “Not a move from you, Sir Aurelianus,” one of the bandits hissed in his ear. Arthur could smell onions and old sweat.

There was a clatter, as of someone dropping an armful of firewood. Arthur fought the urge to roll his eyes in the dark. The torches reappeared, lighting up Merlin’s surprised face. The bandit who held the knife to his throat dragged him into the circle that had formed around Merlin.

“Just the person we want,” the bandit leader said, smiling. “You can take a message back to Camelot that your master has been kidnapped.”

“If you value your lives,” Merlin answered quite solemnly, “you’ll release him immediately.”

The bandits laughed. Arthur stared at Merlin. Was he _crazy?_ Merlin looked back at him—calculatingly, he thought. Something subtle changed in his expression, his bearing—he looked older, stronger, more confident. Who knew Merlin could bluff so well? “Last chance,” he said.

“You don’t even have a sword,” the bandit pointed out.

“I don’t _need_ one,” Merlin answered slowly, and there was a definite threat in his eyes. The bandit leader lifted Excalibur…

What happened next went so fast that Arthur almost missed it. Merlin didn’t even move a muscle. His eyes flashed gold once, and the entire circle of bandits were blasted backwards from him, as if he were the center of an explosion. Excalibur, flying up into the air, shone in the torchlight and fell, point-first, into the earth. The only bandit still standing was the one holding a knife to Arthur’s throat. Swearing, he dropped it and fled, like the rest of his comrades, into the woods. Arthur could hear them scrabbling, cursing, and dragging their unconscious fellows into the forest. In a moment, Arthur and Merlin were left alone, staring at one another in the light of a few dropped torches.

Without a word, Merlin walked forward, his lips pressed tightly together, and picked up the dropped knife. For a moment Arthur was afraid, and he stiffened, almost flinching, as Merlin pulled away the gag and cut the rope that held his hands. He offered Arthur a hand.

It was that movement of friendship that did it. Arthur slapped Merlin’s hand away and sprang to his feet unaided, fuming. The world literally flashed red for a moment. He glared at Merlin, panting, half surprised that the fire he could feel inside of him wasn’t burning his manservant to a crisp. Instead Merlin looked straight back into his eyes—saddened, but unafraid. Unafraid of his laws, unafraid of his authority—

Arthur reached both hands up and shoved Merlin in the chest, pushing him backward. Merlin, stepping back, merely took it, with a look of resignation. When Arthur strode forward Merlin backed away from him, tripping over the forgotten pile of firewood and landing on his backside. Arthur grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled back his fist. For the first time, Merlin showed a sign of fear—he raised his arm, shielding his face from the blow.

Arthur, brought up short, stared down at him. Merlin’s face, averted from Arthur’s fist, was white, and the lines between his brows clearly showed he was on the edge of tears. Arthur dropped him and stumbled backward, sitting down abruptly on the dirt.

“Everyone I’ve ever cared about has lied to me,” he said blankly. “Morgana, Gwen, Agravaine… now you. The one person I thought would never betray me…”

“I lied to you, yes, but I never betrayed you,” Merlin said quickly.

“You don’t call this betrayal?” Arthur said angrily, feeling on the verge of tears himself. He took refuge in yelling. “To commit _treason_ by disregarding the laws of Camelot? _My_ laws? To make a fool of me—serving me as a loyal servant while all the while you were practicing magic? To make me think—to make me think I could _trust_ you, when you didn’t even tell me _this?_ ” Tears stung his eyes and he looked away. “You’ve betrayed Camelot, and you’ve betrayed _me_.”

“You have no idea how many times magic has saved your life, Arthur,” Merlin shot back. “How many times—” He checked himself.

“How many times _you’ve_ saved my life,” Arthur said slowly. He remembered Merlin saying as much when they were being hunted by the dorocha. “How many times has it been, Merlin?” He looked back at him.

Merlin dropped his gaze. “I’ve—lost count.” 

“Guess. Five? Ten?”

“At least thirty.”

They stared at one another for a long time in silence. “Tell me,” Arthur said at last.”

“What?”

“Tell me about the times you saved my life. With magic.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTW, Arthur knows perfectly well that Gwen was enchanted when she lied to him. He’s just upset.


	47. Chapter 47

Merlin built the fire as he talked. It gave him something to do, something else to look at as he told Arthur about the times he had saved his life, the times he had lied to him.

Merlin felt like Arthur’s eyes were on him, but every time he looked up Arthur was staring into the darkness or the fire. 

So Merlin talked. He told Arthur about Sir Valiant, about Edwin Muirden, about Sophia, Nimueh, the Questing Beast, Cedric, Hengist, the Fisher King, the Crystal Cave, the Cup of Life, the Dorocha, Derian, Dragoon, Lancelot’s return, Bertilak. The stories seemed to pour out of him, as if he had been treasuring them up for a long time, just waiting to tell them. He spoke for hours until his voice was hoarse. It was impossible to avoid mentioning that Gaius knew of his magic, and he had no qualms about admitting that Lancelot did, but he avoided incriminating Gwaine or Anwen, and very carefully expurgated from his stories any mention of Kilgarrah or Aithusa. He also wasn’t sure what to tell him about Mordred, so he told him nothing.

“So that was how I got us through the Impenetrable Forest,” he finally said, “and then I stopped the enchanted sword from stabbing Elyan in the heart.” He stopped abruptly and looked over at Arthur. He was staring into the fire, his arms wrapped around his knees. Arthur was silent for so long that Merlin wondered if he’d even realized Merlin had stopped speaking. Finally Arthur stirred.

“I think I knew,” he admitted slowly: “deep down. There were so many signs, but I tried to ignore them. I found explanations for all of them—from the day your friend Will claimed that the magic in the fight at Ealdor was his. I think I suspected then—but I didn’t want to believe that you were lying to me. That you were breaking a law that, had I known, I would have had to execute you for. So I found excuses—excuses that, in retrospect, made no sense. I said you were foolish, but you’ve never been foolish. A little silly sometimes, yes—but mostly silly when you were lying. I said you were a coward—but anyone who knew you even a little would know that you are one of the bravest men in Camelot. I said you were stupid, when really you were constantly fixing my mistakes. And God knows,” he added with a bark of a laugh, “you obviously weren’t spending that much _time_ at the tavern!” 

Merlin tried to echo his laugh, but no sound came out. 

“So magic has saved my life, my kingdom, more then thirty times,” Arthur said slowly. “And yet—it killed my mother.”

Merlin looked down. “Arthur, there’s something else you should know. About your mother.” He glanced up to see Arthur scrutinizing his face. Merlin held his gaze. “Nimueh was a friend of your parents’. Your father, realizing that your mother couldn’t conceive an heir for him, asked Nimueh to help her do so. Nimueh did so—but the price of giving a life is that one must be taken.”

“That is what my mother’s spirit told me. You said it was a lie.”

“I couldn’t let you kill your father. You never would have forgiven yourself.”

Arthur looked down at his hands. “Thank you,” he said at last. He looked up at Merlin with a small smile. “I suppose part of growing up is learning that your parents are human.” He gave a deep sigh and rubbed his hand over his face. “So my father used magic, and inadvertently killed my mother. Did Nimueh know what would happen?”

Merlin shook his head. “I’m sure if she had known it was the Queen that would die, she would have known what the consequences would be. She would never have done it.”

“And my father, out of guilt for my mother’s death, declared magic evil and murdered all those with magic he could find.” Arthur sat in silence for a moment, then stood up and paced back and forth for awhile on stiff legs. “It seems I owe you my life—even more than I thought I did.” He looked up at Merlin. “And I’m grateful. I am. But Merlin, I am the King. I must uphold the laws of Camelot, or they mean nothing. I—” He looked away. “I have to think about this. About what it means.”

Merlin swallowed hard and blinked back his tears. “I understand.”

000

Arthur went to sleep soon afterward—or at least, pretended to do so, as Merlin did. When they got up the next morning, they realized they had never bothered to make any supper the night before. Rather than take the time to skin and cook the rabbits, they ate the bread and dried meat they had packed in case of emergencies, and headed back to Camelot. Neither of them alluded to what had passed the night before—indeed, they hardly spoke at all. It was a long and silent trudge home. 

“Merlin?” Arthur said as Camelot came into sight.

“Yes?” Merlin looked up eagerly.

“If you _ever_ tell _anybody_ I was kidnapped by bandits in my _own kingdom_ …”

“Don’t worry; I know how to keep a secret. I mean—” Merlin turned bright red and fell silent again.

000

“Arthur!” Percival called out as they entered the courtyard. “Back already?”

“Yes,” Arthur said abstractedly.

“What, did Merlin scare off all the game?”

“No,” Arthur answered vaguely; “we just decided to come back. Where’s Guinevere?”

“In the Council Chamber, I think,” Percival answered. “Leon said they had a lot of official odds and ends of business to get through today. Now that you’re back maybe they can get through it faster.”

“Hm,” Arthur said noncommittally. “Oh, good morning, Gaius.”

“Good morning, Sire. Merlin, when you have a chance, there are some chores I need you to do.”

“Where’s Anna?”

“Gathering herbs.”

“Go ahead and take the day off, Merlin.”

Merlin, Gaius and Percival all turned to stare at Arthur. “What?” Merlin said.

“Take the day off.” He took the rabbits out of Merlin’s hand. “I’m sure someone else can take care of these, and I didn’t sleep in my bed last night, so there’s no need to make it.” They were all still staring at him. “I can take care of myself for _one day_ ,” he said testily. “Go ahead and help Gaius.”

“Yes, Sir,” Merlin said, barely moving his lips. He pressed them together and turned away, moving out of the courtyard so quickly that Gaius had to hurry to keep up with him.

Arthur was left with Percival, who still looked slightly stunned. “Here,” he said roughly, shoving the rabbits into Percival’s hand. “Find somebody to take care of these.”

“Yes, Sire,” Percival answered blankly as Arthur strode toward the Council Chamber.

Gwen smiled up at him sweetly when he came in, and the other members of the Council greeted him. Arthur’s first thought had been to go straight to Gwen and talk to her about Merlin, but it was clear he wasn’t going to be able to do that until they had finished taking care of the day’s business. So he sat down and tried to listen. But it wasn’t long before his mind started wandering away from taxes and wells and trade routes and back to Merlin. Over and over again he saw Merlin’s eyes shining gold, the bandits flying backward through the air—just as Arthur had seen Morgana throw people backward. Merlin hadn’t even had to raise his hand toward them like she did. A dozen men at once, too!

But there was an even bigger difference between Merlin and Morgana: Morgana would have killed them, while Merlin had only stunned a couple of them. Arthur was sure, from the stories Merlin had told him, that Merlin had great power—however modest he had been about it. He had had the strength to kill the bandits—but he had let them off with a little warning. His wasn’t an irresponsible or destructive use of power.

“What do you think, Sire?”

Arthur’s head snapped up. “Hm?”

“About the well, Sire,” Geoffrey prompted him.

“I—” Arthur looked around at their expectant faces. “I’m sorry,” he said, forcing a little laugh. “I’m afraid I really wasn’t listening.”

“You must be tired after your hunting trip,” Gwen said calmly. “Why don’t you go and rest? We can handle this.”

Arthur nodded and rose. “Thank you. Gentlemen,” he said, nodding to the rest of the Council, and left the room.

But he couldn’t just go up to his room and take a nap or something. He was sure he would go mad if he were stuck pacing around and around like a lion in a cage. If he couldn’t talk to Gwen, he could at least keep active, keep his mind off of his worries. On the spur of the moment, he ran down to the kitchens to fetch a little luncheon, and then went out to the training grounds, hoping that none of the Council members would see him and think it was strange that a man too tired to deal with Council business wasn’t too tired to swing a sword. 

When he reached the field, Elyan and Raynelle were running some of the newer knights through their paces. Gwaine, Elyan told him, was with Anna, escorting her “for protection” as she searched for herbs in the forest around Camelot. Actually, Arthur reflected, considering the people he himself had encountered last night, it wasn’t a bad idea. At least _that_ little band would think twice before attacking anyone again. He grinned a little at the thought of their shock. Imagine, a scrawny servant turning out to be a powerful wizard! And the servant of a Knight of Camelot, too! He glanced up to see Mordred staring at him with a half-smile.

“What is it, Sire?” Mordred asked, looking to share the joke.

Arthur remembered what Mordred—what _any_ citizen of Camelot—would think of him if he found out what it was he found so funny. The thought sobered him immediately.

“Nothing. Let’s try that disarming strategy I showed you the other day,” he said, drawing his sword.


	48. Chapter 48

The sparring _was_ helpful in keeping Arthur’s mind off his problems, even if Leon _did_ give him a funny look when he came out of the Council meeting. However, Arthur still had to wait until after dinner before he could get Gwen alone long enough to talk to her about what was on his mind, and the wait was torture.

At last Gwen’s maid had hung up her gown, taken down her hair, put her nightdress on her, and left for the night. Gwen walked through to Arthur’s room with a sweet smile. “Now,” she said, taking his hands, “what is it you wanted to talk to me about?”

“How did you know I wanted to talk to you about something?”

“Arthur, you’ve been fidgeting around all day. It’s pretty clear there’s something on your mind. What is it?”

“Sit down,” Arthur said, leading her over to a chair. She sat and waited patiently. “Gwen, brace yourself,” he said seriously. “Merlin has magic.”

“I know.”

“You—what?”

“I figured it out after the Dark Tower. I confronted him about it and he confessed. I told him I would give him a week to tell you himself or I would.”

“You figured it out.” He gave a short laugh and sat down on the edge of the table. “You always _were_ the smart one. So that was the reason for the hunting trip! And not… um…”

“What?”

“You don’t think I’m gaining too much weight?”

“Arthur, people are _supposed_ to gain weight after age twenty-five. It lends you dignity.”

“Oh.” Arthur sat up a little taller, clearly pleased with the idea.

“I want you to know something, Arthur,” Gwen said, bringing the conversation back onto topic. “I made it clear to Merlin that if he wanted to leave Camelot before you found out about his magic, that he should go. He chose to stay—to risk his life throwing himself on your mercy rather than leave your side.”

“He really has no sense of self-preservation,” Arthur sighed, sinking into a chair and resting his forehead in his hand. “He told me about his magic— _all_ about it. He has saved my life so many times with magic—has saved yours, and Elyan’s, and my father’s… Whenever magic has threatened Camelot, truly threatened it, he has defeated it. With magic of his own. But I have the laws of Camelot to think about.” He shut his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose. When he spoke again, there was desperation in his voice. “Gwen, what am I going to do?”

She folded her hands. “The law would have you execute Merlin for the use of magic. Are you going to do that?”

“No, of course not!” He looked horrified.

“It seems to me, then, that you have three choices. You can pretend you don’t know anything about his magic. Forget he ever told you anything about it.” Arthur made no answer to that. “You could banish him.” Arthur drew in his breath and shut his eyes as if the idea physically hurt him. “Or you could legalize the use of magic.”

Arthur ran his hand through his hair, looking as if he wanted to throw up. “What do you think I should do?” he said at last.

Gwen took a deep breath, and touched Morgause’s bracelet, which she had worn frequently since her return from the Dark Tower. “I think it’s pretty obvious from what you tell me of Merlin’s use of magic, from what I have figured out myself about it—and from my recent experience with Morgana—that the only way to defend Camelot against magic is to use magic. We know it has the ability to do evil. That is obvious. But it is also clear from Merlin’s example that it has the ability to do good.” She paused. “Perhaps magic is like a sword. It can be used to destroy the good, or to defend it. It all depends on the one wielding it. Those who wish to harm Camelot have no scruples about using the weapons at their disposal, whether they are legal here or not. But those who would use those same weapons to defend Camelot are hindered by her laws.” 

“So—we need to use magic to defeat Morgana.”

“That makes it sound like an argument for the ends justifying the means.”

“That’s not what it is?”

She shook her head. “Arthur, Morgana first turned away from Camelot because of fear, not hatred. The hatred came later, when Morgause had poisoned her mind. But Morgana was afraid for a long time—afraid because she had magic. Not because she wanted magic, not because she went out of her way to learn it—because she was born with it. No one should be afraid that something they have no choice in will lead them to the pyre or the scaffold. It is what we _do_ with those traits that matters. It is our will that makes criminals, not our birth. Your father executed children. They had done no harm. He was only afraid that someday they might. By branding those with magic criminals, he _made_ them criminals: he made Camelot’s enemies where there were no enemies. If magic were still legal, Morgause would never have fled Camelot, Morgana would never have turned against us. Perhaps it is the law that is the true evil. Perhaps there is _good_ magic—healing magic, beautiful magic.”

“Merlin told me that Nimueh was once friends with my parents,” Arthur said quietly. “Her magic, strong as it was, was not feared then.”

Gwen nodded. “As long as it is regulated by law, magic in Camelot could be a good and great thing. Perhaps, as the outlawing of magic has created such enemies, the legalization of it will make them friends.”

Arthur was quiet for a long time. Finally he muttered, “Courage, strength…”

“What?”

“Something someone said to me once—when I was searching for the Trident of the Fisher King. He said that I would need courage, strength and magic to complete my quest.” He smiled. “He said I was courage—I didn’t realize it at the time, but I suppose he meant that Gwaine was strength and Merlin was magic.” He put his hand on hers. “Perhaps I do need all three. But I need something else as well: wise counsel. And that is you.” He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers. “Have I told you recently how glad I am I married you?”

Gwen smiled. “I can always stand to hear it again,” she answered with a kiss.

Arthur kissed her back, and then sighed. “But the job of a king is to uphold the laws. If I start going back on them—what will the people think?”

“Arthur, the job of the king is not only to uphold the laws, but to make the laws just. You have changed many things since you became king—commoners became knights, queens.” She smiled. “None of those things made your people respect you less. They respected you more, because you weren’t afraid to admit that your father had been wrong about some things—that sometimes traditions needed to be changed. By publicly admitting wrong, you are not demonstrating weakness, but strength. And the people will respect that.” She pressed her lips together. “You have a choice. You can cling to your father’s law and banish a man who has been your most loyal friend, or you can change the laws, and let the people think what they will.” She reached out and put her hand to his cheek. “You must do what you think is right. What will you choose?”

000

“Merlin, are you going to eat that stew or simply stir it around your bowl another fifteen times?” Gaius said. Merlin jumped and looked up. “ _What_ is going on?”

Merlin leaned back and pushed the bowl away. “Nothing. I’m just not hungry.”

“Nonsense. You and Arthur come back from that hunting trip both looking like you’ve seen a ghost, Arthur gives you an unprecedented day off, and you haven’t said more than two sentences in three hours. Tell me what has happened.”

There was a knock at the door. Merlin didn’t move. “Who could this be, so late at night?” Gaius grumbled, climbing out of his chair. “Sir Leon!” he said, opening the door. “Is someone hurt?”

“No.” Leon had his official face on, the one he used to mask confusion. “Arthur has sent for Merlin. I’m to escort him to Arthur’s chambers.”

“Merlin can go on his own, surely.”

Leon shook his head. “Arthur’s orders.”

Gaius turned around to find Merlin already risen to his feet and white as a shroud. “Merlin, what is it?” Gaius asked. 

“I told him. I told Arthur,” he said, walking over to the door.

A terrible fear gripped Gaius’s heart. “Told him what?” he asked frantically.

Merlin turned to look at him, his eyes wet. He was trembling. “Everything,” he said quietly, and followed Leon from the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again, guys, for the kudos. It means a lot to me.


	49. Chapter 49

Leon kept casting curious looks at Merlin as they strode down the hall toward Arthur’s chambers—at least, _Leon_ strode. Merlin’s step didn’t have its usual cheerful, determined spring, and judging from the lack of color in his face, he was about ready to collapse. Leon wondered for the fiftieth time what on earth was going on. What was it Merlin had told Arthur? And why was Arthur summoning him so late at night?

But curious as he was, Leon knew that it was no business of his unless Arthur told him, or it threatened the Kingdom. So at the King’s door he merely knocked, announced, “Merlin, Sire,” and shut the door again. He didn’t even think of listening at the keyhole.

Arthur leaned against the bedpost with his arms crossed as Merlin entered. Gwen, calm as ever, regarded him from her seat the table. As the door shut behind him, Merlin lifted his eyes once from the floor and immediately looked down again. He was perfectly white.

“Merlin.” Arthur straightened up. “I’m sure you know why I’ve asked you here.” Merlin nodded without looking up. “Gwen and I have been talking. You understand that I have to uphold the laws of Camelot.” Merlin seemed to have frozen; Arthur wasn’t even sure if he was breathing. He needed to get to the point. “That is why—we have decided to legalize magic in Camelot.”

Merlin’s gaze shot up to his own, his blue eyes going wide for a moment—and then his knees buckled. Arthur leapt forward and caught him, dragging him over to a chair and sitting him down. Merlin buried his face in his hands and burst into tears.

Arthur looked up at Gwen in terror and mouthed, “What do I do?” With an amused smile, she got up and walked into her own room, leaving them alone. Arthur looked down helplessly at his sobbing friend. Merlin’s skinny shoulders were shaking. Arthur knelt down beside his chair and put his arm around him.

“I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have sprung it on you so fast,” he said at last. Merlin gave a little choking laugh.

“ _You’re_ sorry?” He raised his head to reveal a huge smile. His face was shining, and Arthur couldn’t help but smile back. “You’re—you—”

“Don’t hurt yourself, Merlin,” Arthur grinned. Merlin laughed back, and Arthur slapped him on the back, rising to his feet. Gwen came back in with a handkerchief and handed it to Merlin, who mopped at his face.

There was a loud knock at the door, and Gaius burst in without even waiting for an answer. “Sire, whatever Merlin has done, he did it for love of Camelot,” he said urgently, striding forward. “I beg you—”

“Gaius.” Merlin stood up. “It’s fine!”

Gaius looked from Merlin’s smiling face to Arthur’s and Gwen’s and back again. “Merlin?”

“Gaius, I’ve decided to legalize magic,” Arthur said. 

For a moment Arthur thought he was going to have two crying men on his hands, but Gaius gave Merlin a big hug and the storm passed. 

When everyone had calmed down and Gwen had somehow persuaded everyone into chairs, Arthur got down to business. “I’m glad you came in,” he said to Gaius: “I need your advice on how to proceed. I’m afraid there may be a great deal of resistance to this change, and I’d like to make it as smooth as possible.”

“There may not be quite as much resistance as you think,” Gaius answered. “There are many in Camelot who have been hurt as much by the persecution of magical people as by the magical people themselves—and others who remember what Camelot was like before magic was outlawed. The important thing is to reassure everyone that they are still safe—that legalizing magic makes them _more_ safe, not less so.”

“That is precisely what I want your help with.”

Gaius smiled. “I think I can do that.”

000

It was nearing sunset, and the courtyard was full of people, milling about and talking. It had been announced a few days before that the King would address the people that evening, and that a feast and celebration was planned for afterward.

Servants poured out into the courtyard to join the townspeople, and knights began to line up along the balcony of the castle. The excitement in the air grew, and at last the King and Queen appeared and everyone fell silent.

“People of Camelot: It has been twenty-six years since the Great Purge,” Arthur began, speaking loudly and clearly. “While the execution of those with magic undoubtedly rid Camelot of many who used their magic for evil, the Purge and the executions in the decades that followed killed many innocent and good people—both people who were unjustly accused of the use of magic, and people who had used their magic innocently, who had tried to use it for good.” There was a quiet murmuring at this. “I hereby apologize on behalf of the Crown for the unjust executions carried out, both by my father and myself. Twenty-six bells will ring for the twenty-six years of fear and sorrow.”

All the citizens of Camelot were silent as the bells chimed out dolefully. Many heads drooped—some had tears on their faces. When the sound of the last chime had faded, Arthur spoke again.

“Camelot has entered a new age of peace with our neighbors. Despite the attacks of my half-sister Morgana, we have peace with our lawful neighbors on every side. I wish to extend that peace into Camelot itself—to its citizens who have been persecuted and who have lived in fear for twenty-six years. I wish the years of fear and sorrow to end. For this reason, I declare magic legal in all the lands under my domain.”

The crowd exclaimed in shock, almost as one. Arthur waited a moment, judging their reactions. Finally he raised his hand and they quieted again, agog to hear what would come out of his mouth next. “I understand that some of you find magic frightening. It is powerful and mysterious, and you have all suffered under the magic of Morgana. But magic need not be a force for evil. With magic in Camelot we have more weapons to fight Morgana with, more allies to help us defend our city, fewer enemies at home and abroad. We even have greater chances of good harvests, and of finding a cure for injuries and diseases. Remember that before the Great Purge, magical people coexisted happily here with non-magical people. Magic did not harm Camelot’s peace and prosperity—it guarded it.

“This does not mean that _all_ magic will be welcomed. The laws which existed in Camelot regarding magic before the Purge will go back into effect. Nothing that involves Black Magic, nothing that damages property, people, or individual free will will be tolerated. The mechanics of pre-Purge magical law will be reinstated. There will be no retrospective punishment for the use of magic during its years of prohibition, unless the magic used contravenes the pre-Purge laws.

“With magic, Camelot is stronger, not weaker. Her citizens are freer and safer than under draconian laws, born of fear, that punished the innocent with the guilty. I assure you that you have nothing to fear in this reintroduction of magic. I ask you all to be brave as we enter what I hope will be a new age of peace. Be accepting toward your neighbors who have magic—you may someday need their love and acceptance as much as they need yours.

“In the next few days, riders will be sent out to all the villages in the land to announce the lifting of the prohibition on magic. At that time the laws regarding the use of magic will be announced. I would also ask that anyone who knows how to wield magic that may be useful in coming military engagements to come forward and train with the Knights of Camelot. Your country has need of you.

“The fear and sorrow of our twenty-six years of darkness are ended. I declare this night a celebration of the acceptance of magic in Camelot.”

Arthur stepped backward to signify the end of his speech. There was a smattering of applause, some people actually cheering. There was much murmuring as well. Arthur gestured to the musicians who were posted in the courtyard, and they began to play a cheerful tune. Soon the crowd was merrier, and Arthur breathed a sigh of relief.

Gwen smiled at him and went back into the castle. Arthur, as he went to follow her, peered into the shadows by the door. “Merlin, what are you doing lurking there?” he asked, catching Merlin’s shoulder and pulling him forward. “Come into the light!” Merlin gave a short laugh and did as he said. Arthur looked at him in the last golden rays of the sunset. There were tracks of tears on his cheeks, but he was smiling widely, and his eyes sparkled. Arthur clapped him on the back. “Let’s get a drink.”

“One thing first,” Merlin said, stepping forward to the front of the balcony. He clapped his hands over his head, and a trail of sparks shot off into the sky. The crowd jumped, staring up in apprehension. Thousands of white petals floated down on them like snow among a rain of harmless golden sparks. The people oohed and aahed, and the children caught the petals out of the air and squealed with joy. Their parents laughed and lifted them up on their shoulders. And Arthur knew that everything would be well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, I wasn’t going to show the scene in Arthur’s chambers. I was just going to let you guys sweat, and go straight to the speech scene. But then I decided that was cruel. :P


	50. Chapter 50

“Merlin!” The moment they walked into the Great Hall, Gwaine bounded forward and gave him a big hug. “Congratulations,” he said with a big grin. “I knew you could do it.”

“Do what?” Arthur asked, and Merlin held his breath.

“Change your mind!” Gwaine said with a grin and Merlin breathed again. “How does it feel to be a free man?” he asked.

“Good,” Merlin laughed.

“Wait. You knew? About Merlin’s—” Arthur paused, as if still afraid to say it out loud—“magic?”

Before either of them could answer, Anna flew over and gave Merlin a hug of her own. “Congratulations!”

“You, too.”

She turned pink and looked up briefly at Arthur, but he was still looking at Gwaine. “When did he tell you? _Why_ did he tell you?” _And not me_ was the unspoken end of that sentence.

“Anna figured it out—” Merlin began

“And she and I don’t keep secrets from each other,” Gwaine said quickly.

“Very wise.” Gwen had walked over to join them. “Arthur, shall we start the feast?”

“Yes please!” Gwaine said brightly, and the others laughed. “Besides,” he said as Arthur and Gwen walked away toward the head table, the sooner we eat the sooner we can dance.” He raised his eyebrows and kissed Anna’s hand. “Shall we?”

Most of the people at the dinner seemed more stunned than gratified by Arthur’s pronouncement. The feast was quieter than most, and there was more talking in lowered voices than laughter. Gwaine did his best to boost the spirits of the other knights with laughter and joking, and eventually their part of the Hall at least became merrier. Things cheered up further when the dancing began. Gwaine danced with Anna first. For the second dance, as Anna danced with Merlin, Raynelle claimed Gwaine as a partner and led him around the floor. Arthur and Gwen, who had also been dancing, came over to them as the second dance ended, joined by Anna and Merlin. 

“You’re getting better at following all the time,” Arthur commented.

“Yes, it’s too bad you don’t follow orders as well as you follow your partner!” Leon teased.

“Sire,” a voice spoke up.

“Ah, Mordred!” Arthur clapped him on the back. “Why aren’t you dancing?”

“I wanted to speak with you,” Mordred said quietly, and Arthur saw that his face was a little pale. But his soulful blue eyes were brighter than usual.

“What is it?” Arthur asked, concerned. The others were watching them in suspense.

“I—you said—” He swallowed hard and said clearly, “You said in your speech that you wanted sorcerers to practice using magic for combat.”

“Yes.” Arthur affirmed, afraid that Mordred was going to complain about the decision. “I think it’s wise to use all the weapons at our disposal.”

“I agree.” Mordred squared his shoulders. “I would like to volunteer.”

Everyone stared. It was Arthur’s turn to sputter. “You—wait—you have magic?”

Mordred gave a small smile. “Yes.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Arthur began to laugh. “Alright—who else here has magic that I don’t know about?”

There was a pause, and Anna tentatively raised her hand. “Me,” she said softly.

“Good lord,” Leon said faintly.

Gwaine began to laugh. “I’ve said it before—I think half of Camelot secretly has magic!”

000

Merlin handed Arthur his sword. It was the next morning, and they were both still a little heavy-lidded from the late hours the night before. “All ready,” he announced as Arthur buckled the sword on. 

“Yes, _I_ am,” Arthur answered, pulling his cape into the right position. He looked at Merlin expectantly.

“What?”

“You can’t go to a meeting of the Round Table like that, Merlin.”

Merlin looked down. He was wearing his usual blue shirt, red kerchief, and brown jacket. “What’s wrong with it? It’s what I always wear.”

“Go put on something nicer.”

“You’re assuming I _have_ something nicer.” He paused. “If you’re suggesting I wear that hideous thing you used to make me put on at feasts—”

“Don’t be thick, Merlin. Go put on that jacket you wore for Guinevere’s coronation.” Merlin stared at him. “Well? Hurry up!”

Gaius wasn’t in his chambers when Merlin ran in—he was already down in the Great Hall. Merlin quickly exchanged his usual jacket for the padded crimson one Arthur had given him for the wedding, pinned on Ygraine’s brooch, and ran a comb through his hair.

What was this all about, anyway? he wondered as he dashed back down the stairs. Before, he had always attended Arthur to meetings of the Round Table in his usual, everyday wear. If Arthur was going to start expecting him to dress nicer, he was going to have to give him a raise.

He caught up to Arthur and Guinevere outside the doors of the Hall. “Ready?” Arthur asked him as he offered his hand to Gwen, and Merlin thought the smile on his face looked suspicious.

“Ready,” he shrugged.

As usual, the knights and Gaius stood to attention behind their chairs as the doors were opened and the King and Queen entered. Merlin followed behind them, taking up his usual place by the windows. But they did not seat themselves immediately.

“Gentlemen, today we welcome another member to the Round Table,” Arthur announced clearly. Merlin looked up in surprise. Sure enough, Gaius was seated at Guinevere’s left and there was an empty chair to Arthur’s right. “Just as Guinevere and Gaius have seats at this table because of their wisdom in counsel, so this new member is a trusted advisor, though not a knight. But his loyalty to Camelot and the Crown are unquestionable, and this honor is long overdue. Merlin, please step forward and take your seat at the Round Table.”

Merlin stared. Gwaine began applauding loudly, and the rest of the knights followed, a number of them cheering. Merlin couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face as he walked forward to the empty chair. His name was engraved in the metal plate on the back of it. He looked up at Arthur, who dipped his chin. Merlin gave a nod in acknowledgement and thanks. Guinevere took her seat, and the rest followed suit. Leon, on Merlin’s other side, clapped him on the shoulder. “About time,” he said.

Merlin laughed and leaned over toward Arthur. “Does this mean I get a raise?” he murmured.

“Not a chance, Merlin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t worry; Arthur will get him some more formal clothing. :)
> 
> GUYS! GUYS! GUYS! THIS IS MY FIFTIETH CHAPTER! _FIFTIETH!_ And the story’s over 60,000 words! I’M SO EXCITED!!


	51. Chapter 51

“Gwaine, what are you doing?” Anna asked in a tone of longsuffering.

He laughed. “Can’t I surprise my sweetheart sometimes?”

“When you take my arm and lead me toward your bedroom, I think I’m allowed to be a little suspicious.”

He merely grinned. “Here we are.” He gestured toward the door of his room. Anna narrowed her eyes at him. “Well? Go on!”

She pushed the door open and laughed with delight. There was a feast for two on the table, with a bottle of wine, chicken, and fruit.

“I thought we should celebrate a little,” he said, holding her chair out for her.

“How on _earth_ did you get Cook to give you all this food?” she asked in amazement as he served her and poured her some wine.

“Leftovers from the feast,” he said. “Eat up!”

When they had both eaten their fill, Anna leaned back in her chair. “If I keep eating this much every day, I’m going to get terribly fat.”

“Why should you? _I_ never do,” Gwaine pointed out with a smile.

Anna looked at him for a moment, then leaned in and kissed him.

“What was that for?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to inflate your ego.”

“Oh, really?” This was clearly a challenge. He pulled her off her chair and into his lap and kissed her. “Tell me.”

“Nope.”

He kissed her again. “Tell me.”

“Huh-uh.”

“Third time’s the charm…”

The door flew open, and Anna sprang up so quickly she almost hit Gwaine in the face. Merlin looked at them curiously. “…Were you two snogging?” he said suspiciously, momentarily distracted from his mission.

“No,” Anna said quickly.

“Yes.” Gwaine smiled broadly. Anna flicked his ear.

“Well, you’ll have to postpone. Gaius needs you in the surgery. A child’s hand was crushed, and he wants to use magic to heal it.”

Anna, who had been heading toward the door, stopped in her tracks. “Magic?” she said uncertainly. “Why?”

“It’s the only way to fully restore function. Besides, Gaius thinks it’ll be good to show people how much magic can help them.”

“Can’t Gaius do it? He has magic.”

“His magic isn’t strong enough. He needs mine—and _I_ need _you_ in order to use it. Come on!”

Anna still looked uncertain. Gwaine stood up and tucked her hand into his arm. “Come on, Anna. Someone needs your help,” he coaxed, and she went with him.

When they reached the surgery, Gwaine was almost sorry he’d come. The child was in shock, his father was near a state of nervous collapse, and when they unwound what seemed like an endless succession of towels from the child’s hand, it was enough to make him feel sick to his stomach. It was no wonder Gaius wanted to use magic: the hand was horribly mangled. Even if infection or gangrene didn’t kill the child, it was likely the hand would have to be amputated.

Gaius arranged the child’s hand, putting the pieces (Gwaine had to look away) as close as possible to their healthy positions. Anna gently covered the child’s hand with her own, and Merlin put his hand on top of hers.

“What are they doing?” the father asked.

“They’re going to use magic,” Gaius said quietly. 

“What?!”

Gwaine went to the father and gently held his arms from behind, afraid that the man would interfere. “It’s alright,” he said calmly; “they know what they’re doing.”

Anna didn’t look entirely sure of that, but she took a deep breath and shut her eyes in concentration. “ _Þurhhæle! Ic hæle þina þrowunga_ ,” she said, and opened her eyes. They flashed golden along with Merlin’s. She lifted her hand a bit, and Gwaine thought the child’s hand was looking better. Anna and Merlin repeated the process three times. When they had finished, the hand, though still lacerated, was in one piece and was shaped right again.

The father stared at his son, who was flexing his fingers in curiosity, and then up at Anna and Merlin. Merlin looked satisfied, Anna a little apprehensive. “You did it,” the father said blankly. “You healed it.”

“I must keep Adeon here overnight,” Gaius said calmly. “He has lost a lot of blood, and as you can see, the hand is not entirely healed. We will give his body some time to adjust and then finish healing it.”

The father was still staring. He suddenly leapt to his feet and threw his arms around Anna. “Thank you!” he exclaimed.

“It—was mostly Merlin,” she said dazedly.

The father hugged Merlin too, for good measure. “My wife will never believe this!” he said.

They cleaned the child up and put him to bed and the father left to tell his wife the good news. “You do realize he’s going to tell the whole town,” Gwaine commented.

“I hope so,” Gaius said with an arch smile.

Merlin laughed. “You planned this!”

“Well, I didn’t plan for a child to be hurt,” Gaius clarified. “But I planned to publicly use healing magic as soon as possible. It’s the most obvious and dramatic way to demonstrate to the people of Camelot how great a force for good magic can be.”

Anna looked a little worried. There would clearly be no way now for her to hide her magic. “It’ll be alright,” Gwaine said quietly, touching her hand. She pressed her lips together in a smile and nodded, but he knew she was unconvinced.

000

“Arthur’s hoping that more magical recruits will show up as the proclamation is read across his lands,” Gwaine was saying as he walked Anna home that evening. Adeon was stable and there was little to be done in the surgery, so Gaius had let her go earlier than usual. “He only worries that some people might think it’s a trick to get them to confess to using magic.”

“Mm,” Anna said. 

He glanced down at her. “What is it?”

Anna didn’t answer, but he followed her gaze and saw that there were a number of people staring at them—or more specifically, at her. One woman approached them and they stopped.

“Is it true?” she said excitedly. “Meilyr says you healed his boy with magic. Did you?”

“Yes—Merlin and I did.”

“He said it was all healed up—perfect!” There were more people gathering around them now. Anna looked nervous, but Gwaine began to smile.

“Not quite perfect,” Anna said quietly. “We straightened the bones, but there are still the lacerations to be seen to…”

“She’s being modest,” Gwaine said proudly. “I watched them do it—it was _amazing_.”

The townspeople chattered excitedly. “Will there be any side effects?” a man asked worriedly.

“No, not at all,” Anna reassured him. “There may still be some symptoms from the original injury—blood loss, and so forth. But the magic will do him nothing but good. He had some supper just before I left, and he was getting some color back in his face.”

One woman, the boy’s aunt, stepped forward and gave Anna a hug. “Thank you,” she said emphatically. 

Anna gave her a big smile. “You’re welcome.”

It was a little while before the crowd would let Anna go back to her house, and by that time she was beaming. Gwaine smiled to see the expression of excitement in her eyes. 

“I have patrol tomorrow morning. Will I see you at luncheon?”

She nodded. “And maybe I’ll ask Gaius to teach me some other spells,” she said thoughtfully. “He’s been offering to show me how to light a fire with magic.”

Gwaine smiled and gave her a kiss. “I look forward to seeing you do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trust Gwaine to express love through food.
> 
> By the way, I’m going to be chaperoning a youth group trip from the eighth through the fourteenth. I’m not likely to have computer/internet access during that time, and I don’t know how much time I might have for writing. But I’ll be back to work on this fic as soon as I get back!
> 
> (We’re going to be helping out at Jill’s House, a camp for kids with intellectual disabilities. Check it out at [jillshouse.org](http://jillshouse.org/)!)


	52. Chapter 52

In the event, Gwaine was proven wrong: there wasn’t a sorcerer under every stone in Camelot. In fact, besides those he already knew of, there was only one more who came forward. They were also initially slow to come from the surrounding areas—as predicted, they mistrusted the announced legalization of magic. However, as weeks passed, and the stories spread of more and more people with magic coming to light and no one being executed, a few of Arthur’s people began showing up in Camelot and volunteering to train with the knights. Soon they had a group of four young men and one woman, besides Mordred.

“Sire, how are we planning to train these people?” Leon asked as they headed onto the practice field. The five newcomers and Mordred were in a small group at the corner of the field, and the knights were a short distance away, occasionally shooting them curious glances. Everyone looked very uncomfortable and unsure of themselves. “We have no idea what martial magic they’re capable of, and no idea how to use that in combat situations. Besides, won’t they need a trainer who is capable of magic himself to give them pointers?”

“Yes,” Arthur said. “That’s why I’ve asked one to join us.” Leon opened his mouth, but Arthur added, “And here he is now.” He gestured toward Merlin, who was approaching them across the field.

Leon peered, trying to see if someone was following Merlin. “Where?”

Arthur merely laughed. “You have your work cut out for you,” he said as Merlin walked up to them.

Merlin looked over where Gwaine was introducing himself to the newcomers. They looked a little standoffish. “Looks like it.” Leon looked very confused.

Arthur started off by introducing the knights and the sorcerers to each other. “Alright,” Merlin announced. “We need a volunteer from the knights.”

There was silence. “For what?” Elyan asked cautiously.

“To wear this.” Merlin held up a padded suit.

Arthur looked around at the knights. They were all eyeing the suit with distaste, and clearly wondering what they needed it for. Arthur sighed. If he ever wanted the knights and the sorcerers to work together, he was going to have to lead the way. “I’ll wear it,” he said.

Merlin bit his lips, trying hard not to laugh out loud, and handed it over. Arthur put it on over his armor and put on a helmet. “Now stand over here.” Merlin directed him toward the softest part of the field. “Which of you can throw a man backwards?” he asked the sorcerers. Mordred, one of men, and the woman raised their hands. “Mordred, would you demonstrate?”

Mordred stepped forward and looked questioningly at Arthur. “Go ahead,” Arthur said.

The next moment he was flat on his back. Merlin jogged over and helped him up. “Are you alright?” he asked. Arthur was laughing, a little breathlessly. 

“That was exciting!” he exclaimed. “Who’s next?”

“I’ll do it,” Gwaine volunteered. They put the second padded suit on him as Arthur pulled his off.

“Idwal,” Merlin said, “why don’t you show us what you’ve got.”

The large, burly sorcerer stepped forward and raised his hand. His eyes flashed, but nothing happened. “That’s alright; try it again,” Merlin encouraged him. Idwal raised his hand once more, but nothing happened. He looked embarrassed. Suddenly, Gwaine gave a shout and charged at him. Startled, Idwal raised his hand, and Gwaine flew backward through the air. Elyan and Percival began laughing.

Gwaine sat up and pulled off his helmet. “Whooo!” he exclaimed, trying to catch his breath. “It’s like flying!” 

Idwal pulled him to his feet. By this point, Percival had put on one of the suits. “My turn,” he announced.

“Rhoslyn, you’re up,” Merlin said.

“That’s hardly fair,” Elyan pointed out. “He weighs a lot more than—”

Percival went soaring backward through the air and landed a good three feet farther back than Arthur or Gwaine. Everyone stared, and Raynelle began laughing.

“Attagirl!” she crowed, slapping Rhoslyn on the back. 

Percival pulled off his helmet and struggled to sit up, winded. “Good Lord,” he coughed.

“Alright, for the rest of you, we’re going to work our way up from smaller projectiles to larger ones,” Merlin announced. He had the knights split up into pairs, with shields, and practice stabbing at one another. The sorcerers were to deflect the blades so that they missed their opponents. They continued working until all of them could move the blades so that they glanced harmlessly aside. Merlin then brought out some spears.

“I want the knights to line up there with shields,” he said. 

“I don’t understand,” Ranulf murmured to Elyan. “Why is Merlin training the sorcerers? Shouldn’t Mordred do it? He actually has magic.”

“Sir Ranulf, think fast!” Merlin shouted, and Ranulf looked up to see a spear flying directly toward him. He raised his shield instinctively and the spear bounced off. He stared at it, lying on the grass, as if it were a snake that was going to bite him. The knights were all staring at Merlin.

“I would say that’s why,” Elyan answered Ranulf.

“Merlin has magic.” Percival said blankly. He paused. “Suddenly, a lot of things make sense…”

Merlin’s eyes met Arthur’s. They both suppressed a smile. “Your turn,” Merlin said to the sorcerers. The knights readied their shields.

000

“Will you light the fire with magic?” Percival asked. A few of the knights were on a brief overnight hunting trip and were beginning to make camp. Ever since Percival had found out that Merlin had magic, he had been as excited as a child in a candy shop.

Merlin grinned. “I have to gather the firewood, first.”

“I’ll help!” Percival leapt to his feet. “You go that way, I’ll go this way.”

The other knights laughed good-naturedly as Percival hurried off into the forest. “You’re his favorite person,” Gwaine teased. “I’m jealous.”

“I won’t let it go to my head,” Merlin promised with a grin as he headed off in the opposite direction.

He was not very far from the camp when he felt a strange tugging sensation. Dropping his firewood, he followed it, almost unaware of where he was going. The forest grew darker, and then Merlin found himself face-to-face with the Dís.

“Greetings, Merlin Emrys,” she said.

“Was I too late?” he asked, almost panicked. “Did I fail to avert Camelot’s fate?” What other reason could she have for calling to him?

“Be at peace, Emrys.” She raised her hand. “You have done well. The judgment of the Disir no longer hangs over Arthur’s head.”

Merlin took a deep breath. “Then all will be well?”

“I did not say so.”

“But—”

“ _We_ will not cause his downfall. Mordred will not be the instrument of Arthur’s doom. But decisions will still be made—by you, by Arthur. And all decisions have consequences.”

“But how can I know what those consequences will be?”

She lowered her head, and he felt her piercing stare. “Do what you have always done, Emrys: what you think is right.”

He dropped his gaze. “Thank you,” he said after a moment. “I am glad Arthur knows everything.”

“Does he?” He looked up at her. “Have you told him _everything?_ ”

He pressed his lips together and gulped. “No,” he said quietly. “There are things—I haven’t been able to tell him. But he knows enough.”

“For now. And now I believe you must return to your companions.” He almost thought she was smiling. “I believe Sir Percival would like to see you light a fire.” The Dís vanished into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She Dís-appeared! Tee hee hee


	53. Chapter 53

Morgana strode into the hall of the disused manor house, the one she had made into her base of operations. “Glanmor! The cargo of weapons bound for Camelot will reach the Ford of Rushwick tomorrow,” she announced, settling herself in the ornate carved chair at the head of the hall. “Send in our special trackers.”

Glanmor shifted uncomfortably. Morgana eyed him sternly. He cleared his throat.

“They’re—um—gone.”

“Gone?” Morgana’s voice had become low and threatening. “What do you mean, _gone_?”

“Well, not all of them. I mean—”

Morgana reached her hand out. Her eyes flashed gold, and Glanmor clawed at his throat. “Speak clearly or you won’t speak at all,” she said, and let go. Glanmor leaned over and coughed as his windpipe was released. “Now tell me what you mean.”

“The recruits,” he gasped. “They’ve left the manor—at least, most of them.”

“Which ones?”

“Almost all the magic-users.”

Morgana set her mouth in a hard line. Magic was necessary to her plans—she couldn’t defeat a Camelot patrol in secrecy without it. If all the magic-users were gone…

“You said ‘almost’. Who’s left?”

“The Druid girl—Kara. She was the only one who showed up for the morning meal.”

“Bring her.”

Glanmor scurried out of the room and Morgana tapped her foot impatiently. There was no need for her to ask why the magic-users had left. Morgana’s spies had brought her news weeks ago of Arthur lifting the ban on magic. At first everyone was convinced, as she was, that it was a trap—that Arthur intended to bring the sorcerers out of hiding and then execute them. But as the weeks passed and there was no news of executions—and instead, stories of magic being used in Camelot’s military and infirmary began to be whispered about—people seemed to be losing some of their skepticism. It was said that Arthur had actually apologized for the Great Purge and the deaths of many magic-users. A few had moved into the lower town, and it seemed they were being accepted by the citizens of Camelot. The knights were training with sorcerers, including Mordred. One magic user, a woman, had gone on patrol with the knights two days before. They had caught two of Morgana’s spies in the forest and had given chase. With the sorceress’s help, the knights had managed to defeat Morgana’s agents, killing one of them. The other had escaped to report. 

Many of Morgana’s sorcerers had seemed disturbed by this development—though she wasn’t sure whether it was fear or second thoughts. Camelot with magic was something none of them had bargained for. It made them a more dangerous enemy—a more unpredictable one.

And worse, it made them harder to hate.

Most of Morgana’s purely military mercenaries she had recruited through promises of wealth, land, greater freedom in their raiding. But the sorcerers she had recruited through their hatred for the Pendragons and their so-called purge. Most of these sorcerers had had their own lives or those of their families threatened by Uther and Arthur’s policies. They saw siding with Morgana as siding with magic against those who hated it and them. The world could easily be divided into Morgana and magic against Camelot and hatred.

But now it couldn’t. Magic and magical people were being embraced in Camelot. Arthur was apologizing for his wrongdoing—magic was used openly on the streets—magic users were voluntarily traveling to Camelot in order to help in the war effort. Suddenly the war was not between magic users and magic haters—but between magic users with different ideologies. Clearly some sorcerers disagreed so entirely with Morgana that they had basically jumped at the chance to use their magic in the fight for Camelot. It had given Morgana’s sorcerers pause—they were reexamining their positions.

And Morgana would be lying if she said it hadn’t given _her_ pause as well.

Before Arthur’s legalization of magic, she would have said that any magic user who was aware of the atrocities committed by Uther and Arthur would have sided with her immediately. What had she done that they had rather side with those murderers than with her? Her mind went to Mordred. His master had been killed by Uther’s men, he himself had almost fallen prey to them, he had sided with Alvarr and tried to overthrow Uther, to allow magic back into Camelot. And yet, when she had had Arthur in her grasp, Mordred had turned on her—had attacked her! He was the only one left she had to love—

Morgana shook herself. That door was closed, now. Mordred had sided with Arthur. But why? He had wanted the freedom to use magic as much as she did—she had seen that clearly. Why would he turn on her—side with Arthur? When they had spoken last he had said that her hatred could not win—that she killed the innocent just as Uther had done. But she had only done what was necessary!—what needed to be done in order to destroy Arthur, to rule Camelot, to bring magic back, that people like Mordred could live in freedom. 

But now he _had_ freedom.

Morgana closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead with a frown. Arthur was evil—she needed to remember that. He was just like Uther. He had killed, he had usurped her throne. He must die, and then she could bring back the Old Religion to Camelot. And she would take her rightful throne, her crown.

“My lady!” Glanmor ran back into the room, out of breath. “Kara is gone!”

Morgana glared at him. “Gone?” she asked, dangerously quiet.

“Her room is empty, and she is nowhere else in the manor house or on the grounds.”

“THERE SHE IS!” someone shouted from outside, and Morgana sprang from her chair and strode to the door. “SHE’S HEADING EAST!”

As she reached the east side of the building, Morgana spotted Kara, galloping away across the plain toward the cover of the forest. “Shoot her,” she said calmly to the man next to her, who was holding a crossbow.

“I can’t hit her at this range,” he answered bewildered.

She snatched the crossbow out of his hands and aimed it. “I can,” she said, and as she pulled the trigger, her eyes flashed gold. The bolt sped toward the girl, and everyone squinted into the evening light to see it as it struck her leg. Kara lost her balance for a moment and reeled in the saddle, but she clung on, and in a moment she had disappeared into the forest.

“Shall we send someone after her, my lady?” Glanmor asked.

“No.” Morgana handed the crossbow back to the stunned soldier. “Don’t waste your energy.” She strode back into the hall. “Call in the spy. I _hope_ she’s still here?” she added sarcastically as she disappeared into the shadows.

“Yes, my lady,” Glanmor said nervously.

In a few minutes, the spy stood before Morgana’s chair. “You know what you are to do?” Morgana asked.

The girl nodded, her lips set tightly together. Who knew she could look so determined? “I will tell Arthur that I have double-crossed you—that I know where you will strike next and that I will tell him in exchange for a royal pardon.”

Morgana nodded, but eyed the girl closely. “Many of my agents have defected now that Arthur has legalized magic,” she said. “Are you sure you are in no danger of doing the same?”

“Guinevere had my father killed,” the girl answered levelly. “I do not have magic, so I don’t care _what_ he legalizes. I only want revenge.”

Morgana smiled. “A girl after my own heart. Good luck, Sifa.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys! I’m baa-aaack! Miss me? :)
> 
> Realized about a week ago that I’m spelling Sefa wrong. Oh well. I’m going to keep my spelling for the sake of continuity.
> 
> (If anybody wants to see photos blog entries from the youth leader about the road trip I was on, you can check it out [here!](http://undergroundparents.com/2013/07/))


	54. Chapter 54

“Merlin, how is Mordred’s friend?” Gwen asked. They had gone out for a pleasure ride—Arthur, Gwen, Elyan, Tirion, Merlin, and Gwen’s current maidservant, Bethan. 

“The wound in her leg was deep, but with Anna’s help, it’s almost healed,” he answered. Gwen was still looking at him expectantly, and he added with a smile, “I think she’s getting friendlier, too.”

Kara had been downright hostile when he and Arthur had first encountered her in the woods. Mordred had disappeared from his patrol, and Arthur and Merlin had gone to find him and had discovered him with the girl. When Arthur had offered to take her back to Camelot so that Gaius could look at her wound, she had looked at him like he was a performing dog.

“Are you really going to help a Druid, Arthur Pendragon?”

“I have no quarrel with the Druids,” he answered.

“What if I said I was a magic-user?”

He gave a crooked smile and glanced at Mordred and Merlin. “I’d say you were in good company.”

She looked confused and glanced up at Mordred, who was smiling down at her. “I told you things have changed,” he said softly.

In the end, Kara had allowed them to take her to Camelot, and though she was quite standoffish at first, she was slowly beginning to join in Gaius and Anna’s conversations.

“This seems like a nice place,” Tirion commented, and they all stopped. They had come to a small, grassy clearing with a stream running along one side. There was plenty of shade, and the birds were singing.

“I agree,” Gwen said, dismounting. “Bethan, let’s spread out the picnic while the men take care of the horses.”

Bethan and Merlin carried the two picnic baskets they had brought over to the place Gwen indicated, and then Merlin went with Elyan and Arthur to water and tie the horses.

“We did pick a perfect day for this,” Elyan said as they were finishing up. They all glanced upward, appreciating the fall the sunlight through the leaves. The birds were in full chorus, and there was a gentle breeze.

“It’s nice to get away,” Arthur agreed.

“ARTHUR?” Gwen called. Her tone sounded strained. Elyan and Arthur exchanged looks and ran back to the clearing, Merlin at their heels.

The sight that met their eyes when they reached it made all three of them stop in their tracks. Their three companions were all standing in the glade, in a position that made it look like they had all three leapt to their feet. At the corner of the clearing, kneeling with her arms outstretched, was someone they hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Sifa,” Arthur said, stepping forward.

“Sire.” She bowed her head. “I humbly beg your forgiveness.” Merlin could see, even from across the clearing, that she was shaking.

“Why have you come back?” Arthur asked sternly.

She glanced up at him and then dropped her gaze again. “I have information on Morgana’s plans,” she answered.

“How did you learn them?”

“From her. She hired me as a spy, believing that you would accept me back.” She kept her eyes resolutely on the ground. “I have no such expectations, but I had to do what I felt right.”

“Why do you side with us and not with her?”

Sifa looked up. “Because you are good people. Morgana is full of hatred and violence. She would destroy the whole world if it would slake her thirst for revenge. You wish to build us up. She wishes only to tear us down.”

“You say you know her plans,” Gwen said in the silence that fell after this speech. “How much detail do you know?”

“I know where she will attack next and when.”

“When?”

Sifa took a deep breath. “The day after tomorrow.”

Gwen and Arthur looked at each other. “We must return and convene the Round Table,” Arthur said.

“Please, Sire,” Sifa said, almost flinching as they looked back at her. “Word must not get back to Morgana that I have told you her plans.”

“She’s right,” Elyan said. “The fewer people who know, the better.”

Arthur nodded. “We’ll convene the Council, then.” He looked over at Merlin, who nudged Bethan. The two of them began to gather up the picnic things.

There was a little awkwardness when they mounted up—they weren’t going to make Sifa walk while the rest of them rode, but they were still unsure of her—so who would she ride with? In the end Elyan took her up behind him: Merlin would have done it, but one of the picnic baskets was strapped on behind his saddle.

Mordred was in the courtyard when they arrived. “I’m to tell you, from Gaius, that Ceri has begun having contractions,” he told Merlin, then smiled up at Bethan.

“Oh my goodness!” Bethan leapt off her horse, then stopped and wheeled toward Gwen.

“Go on!” Gwen said with a smile, and Bethan took off at top speed. Ceri, who lived in the lower town, was Bethan’s sister.

“How is Kara?” Merlin asked as he dismounted.

“I don’t know; I was just… about to go see her…” Mordred trailed off as he spotted Sifa.

“Before you do that, please tell Leon I want to see him in the Council Chamber. Merlin, leave that,” he added. “Someone else can get it. We need to gather the Council.”

000

Anna and Gaius were both needed at Ceri’s house, so the Council was one member short. It was strange to Merlin to sit at the table rather than standing off to one side. Arthur saw him shifting in his chair and leaned over with a grin. “Come on, Merlin. You’ve been telling me what to do for years, now,” he murmured. “Now you just get to do it publicly.”

Merlin smiled back as the door opened for Elyan, who was still escorting Sifa. She had gone down to the kitchen and cleaned up a little. Merlin wondered what the staff’s reaction to her had been. It was perhaps a good thing that Elyan had been with her—his presence would have kept comments to a minimum.

“Sifa,” Arthur said when everyone was settled, “tell the Council what you told me.”

Sifa took a deep breath. “Morgana hired me to spy on Camelot for her. I pretended to comply, but I want to help you. I can tell you that she is planning on attacking in two days. Early on the morning after tomorrow, she will bring a large troop to the eastern side of the city and attack there. She is hoping to use the element of surprise.”

Geoffrey opened his mouth to respond when the door flew open and Kara limped in, with Mordred behind her. “Don’t trust her!” Kara said. “She’s working for Morgana!”

“We know,” Merlin answered gently. “She has decided to work for us instead.”

“But Morgana recruited her months ago! She avowed a hatred for Camelot and Arthur.”

“As did you, I imagine,” Sifa answered quietly, and the two girls locked eyes—Kara’s fiery, Sifa’s gentle. “ _Many_ of us have had a change of heart,” she added, turning back to Arthur.

“Why should we believe _you_ have had one?” Geoffrey asked. “You spied for Morgana once before.”

“I spied for my father,” she responded. “And I was very sorry for it afterward. I never meant to be the cause of the deaths of good men.” She dropped her eyes. “I only wanted my father to be proud of me. Now my father is gone—and I have decided that _I_ want to be proud of me.” She looked up again. “I could never live with myself if I knew that I had helped evil to triumph over good. Morgana is evil—I know that. So I will help you to defeat her.”

The Council members looked at one another for a long minute. None of them seemed to want to talk in front of her. “You may go,” Arthur said at last. Sifa dropped a curtsey, and Elyan turned to escort her from the room. As she reached the door, Kara’s voice rang out in Merlin’s head.

_You lie_ , she thought loudly. Sifa paused and turned her head, then left the room. When the door had shut behind them, Kara exclaimed, “You don’t really believe her, do you?”

“We will certainly consider carefully what she has told us,” Arthur answered. “Can you tell us anything more about Morgana’s plan?”

“I wasn’t in her inner circle,” Kara disclaimed. “I was hired as part of a group that was to ambush Camelot soldiers as they brought weapons shipments into Camelot. But the strategy for catching them depended on magic, and all the sorcerers abandoned Morgana when they heard that magic had been legalized in Camelot and that you were working with sorcerers yourselves.” She glanced up at Mordred.

“So she will not be attacking our shipments?”

“Not as far as I know. But they are a target.” She paused. “And there’s something else. Morgana has been working for several months with a very powerful sorcerer named Elïavrés—they call him the Gaul.” She shivered a little at the name.

Arthur looked at Geoffrey. “I will look him up in the court records,” Geoffrey said.

“Ask Gaius, too,” Arthur added to Merlin. “Thank you for your help,” he said to Kara. “You may go.” Kara bowed her head and left, leaning on Mordred’s arm. “Sir Leon, what do you think of all this?”

“We don’t know that Sifa is telling the truth—but then, we don’t know that she is lying, either,” Leon answered. “Better safe than sorry, I think. We should put the majority of our troops at the eastern side of the city—but we should leave some around the perimeter, just in case.”

“I agree. Does anyone have a better suggestion?” No one did. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

As the Council broke up, Merlin wondered how Kara would feel when she realized she had gone from planning to help Morgana attack Camelot to helping Arthur defend Camelot from Morgana. He didn’t have much time to think about it, however—there were chores to be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long break between updates. I had a lot of things to sort out for this story arc.   
> While I was researching a name for the Gaul, I came across this Arthurian gem: _**Bredbeddle:** The true name of the Green Knight in “The Greene Knight”; the counterpart of Bertilak of “Sir Gawain and the Green Knight”. He tamed a fiend known as the Burlow-Beanie._  
>  The high and noble tale of Bredbeddle and the Burlow-Beanie. Arthurian legends are so ancient and venerable.


	55. Chapter 55

Merlin rubbed his eyes and tried not to yawn. He had gone down into the lower town to help with Ceri’s delivery, and it was now well after midnight. He reminded himself that he just needed to get back to Gaius’s surgery and he could go to sleep— _and get up again the next morning by sunrise_ , his mind reminded him, and he stifled a groan.

A flash of white caught his eye and he stopped. He could have sworn he saw the train of a gown disappear around a corner.

Merlin hurried down the corridor and around the corner. The figure, hearing his footsteps, turned toward him just as he brought his hand down on her shoulder. She gave a muffled yelp and jumped a good three inches. “Merlin!” she gasped.

“Sifa! What are you doing out here?” He frowned down at her.

“I—I need to speak with the King,” she said falteringly.

“It’s after midnight. Can’t it wait until morning?” he asked suspiciously.

“No—it has to be in utter secrecy. Please, Merlin—I promise, I mean him no harm. But no one can know that I’ve gone to see him!”

He scrutinized her face in the moonlight shining through the window. Her expression was desperate, but sincere. He heaved a sigh. “Come on,” he said. “Arthur isn’t going to like this.”

No more did he. It took Gwen and Merlin a full minute to shake him awake, and when he did finally come to grips with the idea that Merlin had come in and woken him at two in the morning, Merlin thought for a moment he was going to go for his sword.

“Whatever it is, Merlin, _it had better be good_ ,” he said from between clenched teeth.

“Sifa says it’s imperative that she speak to you.”

“Sifa?” Arthur peered around Merlin to see the girl, standing nervously by the door. He looked back at Merlin and growled, “Get me a shirt.”

As Merlin was getting Arthur semi-presentable, Gwen got out of bed as well. Sifa automatically picked up the robe at the end of the bed and held it out for her—then paused, as if realizing suddenly that her services might not be welcome. But Gwen, after a very slight pause, smiled at her and slipped it on. “Thank you, Sifa,” she said kindly. Sifa smiled tremulously and dropped her gaze.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” Gwen asked as Merlin and Arthur reappeared from the other side of the bed.

Merlin grinned. “Girl.”

Gwen smiled, her eyes bright. “What luck.”

“What?” Arthur looked confused.

“Nothing. Now, Sifa. What is it you needed to tell us?”

Sifa took a deep breath. “What I told you today in the Council—it was a lie.” They all stared at her. “I mean, part of it was. I mean—” She trailed off.

“Why don’t you tell us the truth,” Gwen said gently. “From the beginning.”

Sifa took a deep breath and nodded. “Morgana _did_ hire me as a spy. She told me to tell you that I would really be working for you. I was to tell you that she would attack the eastern side of the city, so that that majority of your troops would be _there_ —instead of where she really plans to attack. At dawn tomorrow morning she will attack from the west. She told me once that she has secret agents in Camelot and that she would know if I delivered the wrong message. That is why I’ve come to you in secret.”

Arthur was frowning. “Let me get this straight. She wanted you to tell us to guard from the east, but we should actually guard from the west.”

“Yes.”

“What changed your mind?” Gwen asked. “Why did you decide to help us?”

“Oh, I _always_ wanted to help you!” Sifa answered quickly. “I went to Morgana and offered to act as a spy for her in the hopes that I could learn something useful and use it to help Camelot.” She dropped her eyes again. “After—everything I did—how much hurt I caused—I knew I couldn’t come back without at least _trying_ to do something to make up for it.” She gulped and went on, a little more smoothly, “It wasn’t difficult to convince her that I hated you for killing my father, and that I wanted revenge.”

“And do you?” Gwen asked, still in that gentle tone.

Sifa shook her head and raised tear-filled eyes to meet Gwen’s again. “I’m sorry he’s gone. But I understand _why_ he is. His heart was filled with hatred and anger. He thought he was doing what was right, but he tried to do it through violence and destruction. He tried to achieve good through evil, but that cannot be done. Evil cannot be fought with evil.”

Gwen smiled. “I think you’ve become a great deal wiser while you’ve been gone,” she said. “We will think over what you have told us.”

“Thank you,” Sifa said, dropping a deep and respectful curtsey to both of them. 

“Wait—Sifa,” Arthur said. She turned back at the door. “You said Morgana had agents in Camelot. Do you know who they are? How many there are?”

Sifa shook her head. “She never told me. It might even be a lie—she might just have been trying to make sure I would tell you what she wanted you to hear.”

Arthur nodded. “If you think of anything else, please let us know.”

“Sifa,” Gwen said thoughtfully, “tell me what Morgana was like.”

She frowned. “Lonely,” she said at last.

Out in the corridor again, Merlin silently accompanied Sifa to her door, making sure that they were not seen. “Thank you, Merlin,” she said as she turned to go in.

_Sifa_ , he said directly into her mind, _were you telling Arthur and Gwen the truth?_

She turned back to him, wide-eyed, and reached out a hand toward him for a moment. He knew what must be going through her mind—it was quite possible that the only people she had known who could speak mind-to-mind were Druids, like her and her father—like Kara. But he did not say anything, only waiting for her answer.

_Yes_ , she answered at last, meeting his eyes solemnly. _I swear._

 _Then I believe you_ , he answered.

Sifa’s eyes filled with tears. Suddenly she threw her arms around him and buried her head in his chest. Startled, he held his breath for a moment, and then slowly put his arms around her. In a moment she drew back and slipped through the door to her room, blushing scarlet. The door closed and Merlin stared at it for a long moment.


	56. Chapter 56

Merlin rubbed his arms, trying to warm up, and glanced over at Percival. The big man seemed to have no trouble keeping warm. Merlin sighed.

“Tired?” Percival asked, grinning down at him.

“And cold.” That was the problem with getting up early and coming outside in the dew, and then standing around for an hour, all before sunrise.

Arthur had decided to go with a smaller group of soldiers to the eastern side of the city, making a big show of believing Sifa’s initial message. Meanwhile, he had surreptitiously sent a larger group, under Leon’s command, to the western side to hide in the woods and wait for Morgana. Percival and Merlin had gone with Leon, while Elyan and Gwaine had remained with Arthur.

“This way, even if it turns out that Morgana is attacking from the east, we’ll at least have someone there to guard the city,” Arthur explained.

“Can’t you use a spell to warm yourself up?” Percival suggested eagerly. 

Merlin grinned. “I think I’ll save my energy for the fight,” he answered.

Bors, standing next to them, raised his hand. “Do you hear that?” he whispered.

“What?”

“Something moving in the woods.”

A horn sounded from the east. “Morgana is attacking the eastern wall!” Leon exclaimed, and took a deep breath to call the troops to Arthur’s aid. But before he could speak, there was a shout from the forest in front of them, and mercenaries came streaming down out of the trees. Merlin threw his hand out to divert an arrow that was headed straight for Percival, and battle was joined.

It was a large contingent that was attacking the western wall; Merlin guessed that Morgana had sent a smaller group to the eastern side to distract the soldiers she believed Arthur would send there, and had the larger group conceal themselves in the forest for a surprise attack on the western side. But she had not counted on Arthur placing a larger force on this side. They were quickly overpowering her troops.

“FALL BACK!” their captain shouted, and they began to retreat into the forest.

“CHARGE!” Leon responded, and Camelot’s forces leapt forward with a cheer.

Merlin suddenly spotted Morgana, standing on a rock, her hand raised. He grabbed the person nearest him, who happened to be Percival, and dragged him to the ground just as Morgana shouted, “ _Áhnígeaþ!_ ”

There was a thumping noise all around them, and Merlin looked up to see the troops on all sides falling down like dead men.

Percival gave a roar and leapt to his feet, chasing after Morgana, who turned and ran.

“PERCIVAL!” Leon shouted behind him, but Percival didn’t stop. Merlin took off after him. He was going to get himself killed!

The spell must have taken a great deal of her power for Morgana to run instead of using more magic—but run she did, on the heels of her soldiers. “STOP AND FACE US, YOU COWARD!” Percival shouted.

“Perce, don’t!” Merlin said—but this time she was too fast for him. He was still trying to catch up with Percival, to protect him, when Morgana spun around and shouted, “ _Áhnígeaþ!_ ”

Merlin felt every ounce of energy leave his body in a moment. He fell limply to the ground and heard the thump and clatter as Percival did the same. Someone near him was panting with exertion—Morgana.

“As soon as I have my strength back,” she growled, “I will be back. Half of Arthur’s men are paralyzed, and no one but the Gaul has the knowledge and power to undo this spell.” She sounded triumphant. “Your precious Camelot will fall, and you will not be able to even _lift a finger_ to stop it!” He heard her footsteps recede into the forest.

“LEON?” Arthur’s voice rang out somewhere in the distance, sounding almost panicked.

“HERE!” Leon answered, and if Merlin had been able to, he would have breathed a sigh of relief. He exerted all his strength, willing himself to sit up, trying to speak—but it was as if his mind had disconnected from his muscles. He couldn’t move an inch, could barely even move his eyes.

He dug deep, trying to access his magic. He tried to break the spell, tried to speak—tried anything, _anything_ to at least get a message out. But there was nothing. He could not so much as move the dead leaves on the ground before his face, could not even cry out to Mordred with his mind. He was entirely trapped, imprisoned in a body that did not respond. He felt panicked—but he could not even breathe deeply to calm himself.

“PERCIVAL! MERLIN!” He could hear people approaching through the woods, but he could not answer them. 

“Merlin!” Someone had run over, was rolling him onto his back. His head lolled and he saw Arthur’s worried face bending over him, and standing above him, Gwaine, looking deathly white.

“He’s breathing,” Arthur said after a moment, and Gwaine rubbed his hand down over his face, looking over toward Percival. “Merlin, can you hear me?” Merlin tried to answer, but no sound came out. “Merlin, talk to me.” He tried to blink at Arthur, but even that was beyond his control.

“Same as the others,” he said to Gwaine, sounding tired.

“Percival too,” Leon said.

“We have to get him back to Gaius,” Arthur decided. “If anyone has a chance of figuring out how to break this spell, it’s Gaius and Merlin.”

“What about Percival and the others?” Gwaine’s voice was thick with repressed emotion.

Arthur sighed. “Let’s carry Percival over to the others for now. We’ll have to decide if we’ll leave them in the field with someone to guard them, or try to carry them into the town.” Gwaine pressed his lips tightly together, obviously displeased with this answer, but didn’t remonstrate. “I’ll take Merlin; you three get Percival.”

It was yet another ride draped ignominiously over Arthur’s shoulder. As he was bobbing about, flopping like a dead fish, Merlin caught glimpses of the things around him: Percival, being carried with much travail by Elyan, Leon, and Gwaine. A field full of what looked like dead bodies, which he knew were soldiers under the same enchantment as himself. Arthur’s own contingent of men, staring at their comrades in shock. Percival’s friends laying him down gently with the others. Gwaine giving Percival a last, pained look as he followed Arthur back toward the castle.

000

“What happened?” It was Gaius’ voice, surprised but not alarmed. Arthur set Merlin down on the edge of a bed, and hands gently lowered him onto his back.

“Some kind of spell,” Arthur said grimly. “Morgana hit most of my soldiers with it. They’re all alive—strong heartbeats, breathing—but they can’t seem to move.”

Gaius appeared in Merlin’s line of sight, pulling at his eyelids. He lit a candle and held it before his face. “His pupils are responding,” he said thoughtfully. He lifted Merlin’s hand above his face and let it go. It fell and hit Merlin in the face.

“Gaius!” Gwaine expostulated.

“I am checking for consciousness,” Gaius said sternly. He ran his finger lightly over the ends of Merlin’s eyelashes, and he felt his eyelids flutter.

“Ah!” Gaius straightened up. “He’s conscious. But he’s almost entirely paralyzed—even some of his reflexes aren’t working.”

“If he’s conscious, he should be able to use his magic, shouldn’t he?”

Gaius put two fingers to Merlin’s throat. “Merlin, if you can hear me, try to break the spell.” Merlin strained mentally at his bodily fetters, trying with everything he had to find some way around the spell—but nothing happened.

“He’s trying,” Gaius said: “his heart rate increased. But he doesn’t seem to be able to access his magic.”

“Can you break the spell?” Gwaine asked.

Gaius took a deep breath. “I can _try_ ,” he muttered. “ _Bebiede þe arisan cwicum_.” He paused. “ _Þu fornimest adl fram guman… Gestepe hole! Þurhhæle!_ ” He looked up at Arthur. “Nothing,” he said. “Anna? Maybe you can use his own power to heal him.”

She loomed into Merlin’s field of vision and sat down next to him, placing her hand on his cheek. “ _Þurhhæle!_ ” she said, and Merlin, trying to exert his own power through her, saw her eyes glow golden. She frowned at him—he wondered if his own magic had worked or not. “Let’s try it again, Merlin,” she said patiently, and repeated it.

“It’s not working,” she said, looking up and shaking her head.

“But I saw his eyes glow,” Gwaine said. “He _is_ channeling his power through you—isn’t he?”

“Yes—I can _feel_ his power—but the only healing spell I know isn’t working,” she explained. 

“Try again,” Gaius said.

Anna pressed her lips together and put her hand to his cheek again. “ _Þurhhæle!_ ” This time Merlin exerted himself as he never had before.

“Whoa!” Anna broke the connection and sat back.

“What?”

“He just used an awful lot of power.” She looked at Gaius and shook her head again. “It’s the spell that’s the problem. A healing spell won’t fix this.” 

“Can’t you try a different spell?” Gwaine suggested. 

“I can heal him or I can set him on fire,” Anna said acidly. “That’s all I’ve got.”

Arthur sighed. “Our first concern has to be to break the spell—on _all_ of them,” he said. “Gaius, see what you can find in your books—keep trying.” Gaius nodded and stood, heading for his collection of magical books, books he no longer had to hide. “We will convene the Round Table—and call in Sifa and Kara. Perhaps one of them knows how to contact a sorcerer who may know how to break the spell.”

_No!_ Merlin thought desperately. _Only the Gaul can break it—and by the time you figure that out, Morgana will have regained her power and will attack!_ And Arthur had less than half his usual army—and no Merlin to counter Morgana’s magic. Merlin struggled internally. He had to tell Arthur to call up as many men as he could muster—strengthen the walls—prepare for invasion. But Arthur turned and left the room and Merlin couldn’t even turn his head to watch him go.

“Gwaine!” Anna said, springing up, and disappeared from Merlin’s field of vision. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. 

He heard Gwaine give her a quiet kiss. “You’re upset, Annie.” He paused, then added, with difficulty, “We all are.”

“I’m sure we’ll figure a way out of this,” Anna said reassuringly. “We’ll have Percival and Merlin back on their feet in no time.”

Gwaine gave a humorless little laugh—he knew she was speaking what she hoped, not what she believed. “I hope so, Love,” he said. The door closed behind him.

Anna came back and sat down by Merlin’s bed, looking distraught. She tried to give Merlin a smile. “Gaius will find something,” she said, though she looked more tearful than hopeful.

_Gaius won’t find anything_ , Merlin thought hopelessly. _At least, nothing that will help us. Even if he finds the spell, it must be something very difficult—they’re not going to find someone who can use it. Not in time._ Anna was the only one who could access the power—his power—to use that strong a magic. And Anna was the one who directed that power. She was excellent at healing spells, but as she had said, almost everything else was beyond her. Merlin needed to do more than give her his power: _he_ had to be the one directing it. But he couldn’t do anything except through her.

Then he had an idea. A wonderful, horrible idea.

“Don’t worry,” Anna said again, and put her hand on his. Merlin, silently asking her forgiveness, gave everything he had— _everything_. Anna’s head flew back, and she gasped horribly. The world flashed golden in Merlin’s sight.

000

“We need to find a cure for our comrades,” Arthur said to the assembled knights. There were too few of them—too many gaps around the table. More than half the knights were missing, under Morgana’s spell in the field to the west of the walls. “That must be our first priority. Anyone who knows a sorcerer or a spell that may help to break this enchantment, please step forward.”

The knights all looked at one another helplessly, then looked toward Mordred, Kara, and Sifa.

“The Druids might know something—but contacting them would take time,” Mordred said worriedly. “I don’t even know where their camps are at the moment.”

“Kara? Sifa?” 

Both of them shook their heads. “I have been with Morgana too long—my people have moved on since I left them,” Kara said, and Sifa nodded her agreement.

Arthur set his jaw. “Then we must search them out.”

There was a sound of voices in the corridor, and the doors to the hall were flung open. Anna strode in—a strange, stilted gait which was not how she usually moved. Still, it was strangely familiar. Arthur didn’t have long to wonder about it.

“You can’t waste any time looking for sorcerers,” Anna announced loudly, striding forward to the table. The guards came running in after her, looking confused. “You have to muster what fighting men you can find—and quickly!”

“Anna, what—?” Arthur was shocked. He had never seen her behave like this before: loud, insistent, demanding.

“It’s not Anna,” she said. “It’s Merlin. I’ve possessed Anna. And you’ve got to get the troops _now_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *giggles maniacally* I’ve been looking forward to doing this since I started this fic…
> 
> I was very excited to discover the Anglo-Saxon verb _áhnígan_ , meaning “to fall down, to bow down, to empty oneself.” Seemed perfect for my purposes. :)


	57. Chapter 57

Gwaine was out of his chair. “You _WHAT?!_ ” he thundered.

“It’s alright, Gwaine—she’s letting me do it.”

“This is preposterous,” Arthur burst forth.

“We don’t have _time_ for this, you clotpole!” Anna said loudly, exasperated.

“Oh my God.” Arthur fell back in his chair and stared at her blankly. “ _Merlin?_ ”

“We’ve got to get the troops ready _right now_ ,” Anna-Merlin repeated. “Before she ran, Morgana said that as soon as she recouped her powers from that freezing spell, she would attack—while we weren’t prepared. We need to be ready for her.”

Arthur made a great effort to regain his composure. “Call up as many recruits and volunteers as possible,” he ordered. “An—Merlin, how long will it take for Morgana to regain her strength?”

“Anywhere from several hours to a day,” Merlin answered, shaking her head.

“Then we have to prepare _fast_ ,” Arthur said, nodding to his knights. “Let’s get to work.”

000

Arthur quickly dispatched people to gather up local recruits and arm them. However, they were quickly running out of good weapons.

“We can’t just arm our soldiers with pitchforks and spades,” Gwen objected. She, Arthur and Merlin had formed the hub of the operation in the Council Chamber. Most of the knights were running around the castle and the town carrying out orders. Gwaine, however, was hovering in the background with his arms crossed and a frown on his face.

“Get the swords of the knights who were cursed,” Merlin said, and Arthur and Gwen looked up at her in shock. She pressed her lips together. “They will not be taking part in this battle,” she said quietly. “They have a resource we can use. We had best use it.”

“Can’t you cure them?” Gwen asked.

Merlin shook her head and looked down. “I tried to cure myself, once I had—” she gestured to her body. “But nothing works. I’m sorry.”

Gwen automatically reached for Arthur’s hand. “You mean nothing can be done?” Arthur asked hoarsely. They heard a sharp intake of breath from Gwaine’s corner.

“There are some other things we can try,” Merlin said quickly, then paused, looking uncomfortable. “But they take time. That is something we don’t have at the moment. We can worry about breaking the curse when we’ve defeated Morgana.”

Arthur nodded. “Alright. Leon?” he called. Leon stepped into the room—he had been in the corridor outside, relaying orders. “Tell the men to use the swords from the fallen knights for the new soldiers.”

“Yes, Sire.”

“I’m going to go see if Gaius has found anything in his books,” Anna-Merlin said, and headed out of the room after Leon. Gwaine followed her.

“Merlin,” he said when they had reached the stairs. Merlin turned, and Gwaine grabbed her arm and pulled her into a storage room. 

“Gwaine? What—”

Gwaine stepped up to him and stared her down—easier to do now that Merlin was no longer taller than him. Merlin bridled. “Merlin, if you hurt her, I swear to God—” Gwaine growled.

“Gwaine, come on—” Anna-Merlin tried to step back, but Gwaine closed the space.

“I’m serious,” he added. That much was clear: he was angrier than Merlin had ever seen him.

“What are you going to do?” Merlin asked, his own nerves finally frayed. “Beat up your girlfriend’s body? Come on, we have more important thing to worry about right now.” He tried to push past him, but Gwaine grabbed her shoulders and stopped her so abruptly that Anna’s eyes went wide.

“ _Nothing_ is more important to me than Anna’s wellbeing,” he hissed. “I saw two of my best friends completely paralyzed today, and now Anna—”

“She’s fine. I _swear_ , Gwaine. She’s allowing me to do this. It’s like when she heals people—it’s my power, but she’s the one allowing it to work through her. If she didn’t want me in here, I couldn’t be here.” Gwaine dropped his chin, breathing deeply through his nose, getting himself under control. “I have to go, Gwaine,” Merlin-Anna added, stepping out of his now slack clutch. “There are things I have to do before the battle.”

Gwaine’s head shot up again. “You’re not going to _fight_ , are you?” He sounded more worried than angry now.

“I don’t have any choice. None of our sorcerers is strong enough to face Morgana. I have to do this, or she’ll paralyze the whole lot of us!”

“Merlin, please.” It was hard to tell—the closet was pretty dark—but Gwaine’s eyes were pleading. “Don’t do this. Don’t put Anna in harm’s way.”

“Gwaine, it’s the only way.”

“Don’t.”

Merlin paused for a moment, as if listening. “Anna wants to talk to you,” he said. She closed her eyes and frowned, and as Gwaine watched, her face changed subtly. When she looked up her expression was very different—gentler, sadder.

“Anna?” Gwaine said.

She stepped forward and kissed him. It was her, beyond a doubt. She rested her forehead on his and he closed his eyes. 

“You don’t have to do this,” he pleaded.

“No, I don’t,” she agreed. “But I want to. You’re not the only one who has duties to those he loves. You have to do your part, and I have to do mine. This is my part.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said around the lump in his throat.

She kissed him again. “This is war, and the soldiers must be brave.” She gave him a tight smile. When he managed to return it, despite the tears in his eyes, she stepped back. Her face changed again and she shook her head once. Merlin-Anna looked at him questioningly.

Gwaine took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “Let’s do this,” he said.

Anna smiled. “First I have to change clothes,” he said, slipping past Gwaine and out of the storage room.

“Merlin,” Gwaine said warningly. Anna turned. “Don’t look.”

Anna grinned—it was Merlin’s bright, eye-crinkled grin on Anna’s face. “I’ll let Anna do it, don’t worry,” he assured him, and ran up the stairs, almost tripping when he forgot to lift his skirts.

Gwaine took a deep breath and went to help Leon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about all the “Merlin-Anna” and the pronoun confusion. It’s hard to figure out how to remind the reader that it’s Merlin’s mind and mannerisms in Anna’s body without making the writing either confusing or unwieldy.
> 
> May be a few days until an update—I’ve got a wedding to be in this weekend!


	58. Chapter 58

“Merlin?” Bors stepped into Gaius’s surgery and glanced confusedly between Merlin’s body, lying prone on a cot in the corner, and Anna, who had changed into trousers and a tunic and was braiding her hair.

“One moment,” Anna answered. “Merlin doesn’t know how to braid.” She tied off the plait and straightened up, and her face shifted subtly. “Yes, Bors?” she said.

“Oh. Um… Leon said to tell you that the troops are lining up, and he wants to know where to place the sorcerers.”

“I’ll come down,” Merlin said, and followed Bors down the stairs and out to the walls of the lower town. He placed the sorcerers at strategic points, gave them some advice for the battle, and then went to join Gwaine at the gate.

“I didn’t think Anna had any trousers,” Gwaine said, looking at her clothing.

“She doesn’t—I’m wearing Merlin’s.” Anna was suddenly speaking in what was obviously her own persona. “But I had a _terrible_ time finding a pair that would fit over my hips—they’re pretty much held up with twine. Merlin is awfully skinny.”

Gwaine shook his head at the change of speaker. “This is bizarre,” he said.

“You think it’s strange for _you?_ ” Merlin exclaimed. “I’m a _woman_.”

Gwaine gave him a cheeky grin. “You’ll have to tell me later what that’s like.” He looked at her and then laughed. “I can’t tell which of you is giving me that dirty look.”

“Both of us,” Merlin answered dryly.

They were silent for a long time, and at last Gwaine spoke again. “I don’t like that Morgana has the power to paralyze people like this. It’s even worse than her habit of throwing people backward.”

“I’ve never heard of a spell like this before,” Merlin admitted. “Perhaps she learned it from the Gaul.”

“But she did something like this in the Dark Tower,” Gwaine pointed out. “It wasn’t quite the same—it held us frozen, but didn’t drop us to the ground. And it stopped working when Gwen broke that crystal.”

“The Dark Tower would have sapped her power,” Merlin explained. “Even _I_ felt its effects, and I hadn’t been living in it for the last week. She used the crystal to boost her power so that she could perform an easier variant of the spell.”

Gwaine shook his head. “I still don’t like it. There seems to be absolutely no defense against either spell—throwing people or paralyzing them. If she decides to use them, we’re at her mercy.”

Merlin frowned. “Maybe there is a defense,” he said thoughtfully.

Gwaine opened his mouth to ask, but at that moment Arthur walked up. “Merlin?” he said, half unsure of himself.”

“Arthur,” Merlin responded. “Are we ready?”

“As ready as we’re going to be. If Morgana has a large force, we don’t have enough to fight her off. Not with so many paralyzed.”

“What’s being done for them?” Gwaine asked.

“There are some soldiers guarding them, and Gaius has them giving the victims water every couple of hours,” Arthur answered. “But we need to find a cure,” he added to Merlin, “as soon as possible. Gaius says we can’t leave them without food for too long.” They both looked at Merlin, who looked grim and didn’t answer. Arthur looked down for a moment and then put his hand on Anna’s arm. “I’m glad you found a way to be with us,” he said quietly, and walked away. Merlin watched him go, then glanced back to see a strange look on Gwaine’s face.

“You alright?” Merlin asked.

“Yeah.” Gwaine gave him a gentle smile. “It’s just that when I see that look on Anna’s face I’m used to it being directed at _me_.”

Merlin gave him an arrested look, but before he could answer there was a shout from higher up on the wall. “THEY’RE COMING!”

Anna and Gwaine scrambled up to see. True to Arthur’s fears, the army that was approaching, while not huge, was obviously larger than their own force.

“We’ll have to trust in the town’s defenses,” Gwaine muttered.

“Or a little fear,” Merlin answered, so quietly that Gwaine barely heard him.

The invaders were soon within bowshot, and the defenders, while protected themselves behind the town’s palisade, shot volley after volley down at them. The soldiers retreated a little, and their archers began to respond with flaming arrows, which began to catch the palisade on fire.

“Aim for the archers!” Arthur shouted, but the flames were already licking their way up the wood. Inside the wall, women created bucket brigades to bring the water down from the town well, passing the buckets up to women on the wall who, at risk of being hit with enemy arrows, leaned out to pour the water down the outside of the palisade, putting out the fires and soaking the wood. Gwaine saw Sifa narrowly dodge an arrow and dump water down the palisade on a particularly large burning patch.

The two forces had soon reached an equilibrium. “Why isn’t Morgana attacking with magic?” Gwaine asked, shouting over the din.

The words had no sooner left his mouth than there was an explosion and splintering wood flew everywhere—Morgana had blown the gate off of its hinges. 

Time seemed to slow down. Even as he fell back before the blast, Gwaine saw Anna, with Merlin’s expression of grim determination, take a step toward Arthur, who was now standing in the breach alone. Then she stopped. An internal struggle seemed to occur, and Anna—Gwaine didn’t know how, but he _knew_ it was her—turned toward him and raised her hand. Her eyes flashed gold, and a huge chunk of splintered wood, which had been flying directly toward him, changed course in midair and missed him by an inch. Anna had overridden Merlin, had used his magic to save Gwaine.

“HELP ARTHUR!” Gwaine shouted at her, almost angrily. She looked at him in shock for a moment, and then turned and ran toward the breach. Just as she reached it, Arthur was blown backward, and Morgana stepped into the hole where the gate had been, her soldiers streaming single-file through the gap on either side of her. Camelot’s soldiers ran to intercept them, and Anna stepped forward between Morgana and the King. Almost casually, Morgana raised her hand to fling Anna backward. Her eyes glowed golden—

—and nothing happened. Morgana stopped in her tracks and stared at this girl, who was the only one who had ever been able to counteract that spell. “Who are you?” she snarled.

“I am Emrys,” Anna answered.

Morgana couldn’t help the start she gave at the mention of the name. “Impossible,” she answered quickly. “Emrys is a man.”

“I _am_ a man,” Anna answered. “I am possessing the body of this woman.”

If possible, Mogana turned even paler. “Impossible,” she said again. “Only the high priestesses could truly possess someone—and they could only possess one another.”

“Impossible for others, perhaps,” Anna answered, her voice carrying easily over the noise of the battle that swirled around them, leaving the two of them as a calm eye in the storm. “But I am Emrys.” She fixed Morgana with a penetrating eye. “What do you want here, Morgana Pendragon?”

Morgana stared at her in what looked like terror, then raised her hand. Anna’s eyes flashed gold and Morgana flew backward, knocking down two of her own soldiers as she landed. Everyone about them fell strangely silent, staring at the spectacle of an unknown girl in men’s clothing knocking down the High Priestess, the woman none of them had ever seen bested in a fight. Morgana sprang to her feet—and did something none of them, except perhaps Merlin, expected:

She turned and ran. 

Her soldiers looked at one another in confusion. Finally, the commander looked at Anna and made a decision. “RETREAT!”

Camelot’s forces shouted in triumph as they began to harry the retreating soldiers. Merlin turned away to help Arthur up. 

At that moment, one of Morgana’s foot soldiers, annoyed that a retreat had been called when they were winning, drew back his sword to deliver a blow at Anna’s back. “NO!” Gwaine shouted, running toward her—but he was too far away to intercede. Just as the blow fell, something arrested it: Sifa had swung her wooden bucket between the sword and Anna. The blow knocked the bucket out of her hand and threw Anna off balance and onto her hands and knees. Sifa now faced the angry swordsman alone and unarmed. He slashed at her and she fell. Gwaine reached her and parried the swordsman’s final killing blow. He drew back to give the attack, and the swordsman flew backward through the air and into the palisade with a sickening crack. He fell to the ground with his neck broken, his head lolling. Sifa lay face-up on the ground, choking on blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay in updating (again!). Kind of a busy week—I had a friend staying the weekend because we were in a wedding on Saturday, and now I’m on a short family vacation—in fact, I’m sitting on the porch of a bed and breakfast updating this! 
> 
> Stay tuned to find out what happens next…


	59. Chapter 59

“Sifa!” Anna scrambled over to her on her hands and knees. Sifa, unable to answer, gave a choking gurgle. The sword had slashed deeply across her chest. Anna put her hands over the wound. “ _Þurhhæle! Ic hæle þina þrowunga_ ,” she said, her eyes glowing golden. She did it several times before Sifa stopped coughing. Gwaine helped her sit up, and someone handed her a handkerchief to clean the blood off from around her mouth. Sifa looked up, startled—it was Kara. Kara pressed her lips together in something resembling a smile, and Sifa smiled back tremulously.

“Thank you,” Merlin said, putting his hand on Sifa’s shoulder. “You saved my life.” 

Sifa turned as pink as her paleness would allow, but didn’t answer.

“We should take her back to the surgery,” Anna said, and Gwaine nodded. “Perce—” he began, looking around, and then paused, his face growing suddenly serious as he remembered where Percival was. “I’ll take her,” he said quietly, and scooped her up in his arms.

Arthur, who by this time had clambered to his feet, offered a hand to Anna. “I have _never_ seen Morgana run from a fight like that,” he said wonderingly.

“She’s terrified of Emrys,” Merlin said quietly.

“Yes. She called you that—who is Emrys?”

“I am,” Merlin answered, not meeting his eye. “I—it’s—I’ll explain later.”

They followed Gwaine up to the castle, though their smiling army. The celebrations were a bit subdued—everyone was thinking of the soldiers who were still paralyzed. 

Gaius had set up cots in the Great Hall, though there were few casualties. “I hate to distract you, Gaius,” Arthur said as Anna and Gwaine settled Sifa onto a cot and Anna saw to one of the more severe injuries that had come in, “but I wondered if you had found out anything about the spell Morgana put on our soldiers.”

Gaius shook his head. “I have found only one account of a similar spell, and the historian wrote that the victims all died of starvation because a counter-spell could not be found.”

Gwaine blanched and Arthur looked at Anna, whose expression was grim. “Let’s go out to them,” Merlin said.

000

Anna, Gwaine and Arthur rode out to the field on the western side of the city as the sun slowly sank in the sky, Arthur carrying Merlin’s body before him on his saddlebow. Gwaine felt sick when they reached their destination. The field looked more than ever like it was full of dead bodies: the soldiers who had been left to guard their comrades had laid them out in neat rows, and they looked like nothing so much as corpses awaiting burial. Gwaine dismounted and crouched down by Percival, laying a hand on his forehead. “We’re going to fix this, Perce,” he murmured, knowing that his friend could hear him. “Merlin will find a solution.”

And Merlin tried. He used a number of spells, speaking words the others couldn’t understand, but nothing seemed to work. Gwaine began to wonder if they would find a solution after all. Would Percival and the others slowly starve to death out in this field? Would Merlin remain in Anna’s body? For how long? How would it affect Anna?

Anna finally sat back. “That’s all the spells I can think of,” Merlin said dully. Gwaine ducked his head so that the tears in his eyes would not be visible.

“Then there’s nothing we can do?” Arthur asked grimly.

Merlin was silent for a long moment. “It’s all the spells _I_ know,” he finally said, climbing to his feet. Then Anna threw her head back, and a voice issued from her throat unlike any sound Gwaine had ever heard her make before. It was a deep roar, an animal sound—terrifying and wild. “ _O DRAKON! E MALE SO FTENGOMETTA TESD’HUP’ANANKES!_ ” 

Everyone drew back from her, but she simply watched the skies. “No one panic,” she said quietly. “I called him here—he can’t hurt you.”

“WHO?” Arthur said, his voice rough with surprise and alarm.

But the answer was quickly obvious. They heard the sound of giant wings beating the air, and looked up into the sky, all lit with the colors of sunset, as a huge form swooped down from the clouds and alighted next to them: a dragon. His scales were gray and rough, and three horns curved backward from his head—but his golden eyes were strangely intelligent. Arthur, Gwaine and the guards all drew back in terror, but Anna remained, staring calmly up at the dragon, which could barely fit in the small clearing without standing on any of Morgana’s victims.

“This is a new sight,” the dragon spoke at last, and everyone but Anna jumped. He sounded vaguely amused. “Trying on new faces, Merlin?”

“My usual one is currently out of commission,” he answered dryly, gesturing to his body, which lay nearby.

“And an audience,” the dragon continued, fixing the rest of them with a stare that made them instinctively draw back. “This _is_ a new age, indeed.”

“I need your help,” Merlin said, cutting him off. “Morgana used a powerful spell to paralyze these men. I cannot break it.”

“And you order me to do so,” the dragon said.

“You know that I prefer not to _order_ you to do anything,” Merlin answered. “But yes—if I must.”

“Let us put you back into your own body first,” the dragon said, and turning its head, breathed on Merlin’s body. Anna stumbled and nearly fell, and Gwaine leapt forward to catch her.

“Ow,” she said querulously, putting her hand to her head.

“Are you alright?” Gwaine asked urgently.

“Yeah,” Anna said, rubbing her temples. “I just have one hell of a headache.”

Merlin sat up, rubbing his head as well. “That was _not_ fun,” he said, his voice rough. 

“But I am sure your comrades will be grateful,” the dragon replied, and turning his head, breathed across the field. There were groans and gasps as all across the clearing as men sat up and stretched their limbs. It looked like the dead were rising.

Percival sat up and rolled his gigantic shoulders. “Perce!” Gwaine said joyfully. “How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve had too much sleep,” Percival answered taking Gwaine’s proffered hand and clambering to his feet. He stared up at the dragon. “Thank you,” he said cautiously.

“You are very welcome, Sir Percival,” the dragon answered formally. 

Merlin stood up and stretched, glancing nervously over at Arthur, who was looking between him and the dragon with a stern expression. “Everyone back to the castle,” Arthur ordered shortly.

Anna turned to Merlin and gave him a big hug. “Thank you,” Merlin murmured.

“Glad I could help,” she answered. “Let’s _never_ do that again.”

He laughed. Gwaine led her horse over as Merlin went to join Arthur. Anna looked up at it and shook her head with an expression of distaste. “I’ve had enough jolting for one day,” she said, crossing her arms protectively over her chest. “Merlin _really_ doesn’t know how to roll his hips.”

In a few minutes the soldiers and Anna had left the field, and Arthur and Merlin were left alone, staring up at the massive form of the dragon in the gathering darkness. “It seems we have much to discuss, Arthur Pendragon,” the dragon said.

“Yes,” Arthur answered shortly. “We do.”


	60. Chapter 60

“You’re the dragon that attacked Camelot after Morgana went missing,” Arthur said grimly as the last of the soldiers disappeared in the direction of the castle.

“Indeed.”

Arthur put his hand to his sword hilt. 

“I can kill you with a breath,” the dragon stated.

“Not if I don’t let you,” Merlin said quietly, putting his hand on Arthur’s and brushing it away from his sword.

“My argument was not with you, Arthur,” the dragon said patiently. “It was with your father.”

“It doesn’t matter to me who your argument was with!” Arthur exclaimed angrily. “It matters that you attacked and killed _my people!_ ”

“They were not your people then. They were Uther’s.” Arthur went for his sword again and Merlin grabbed his hand. “Uther was the one who imprisoned me! Who killed all of my kind, ordered the Dragonlord to summon me, claiming that he wanted to make peace with me, and then betrayed us both! He was false and a butcher of ancient beings and ancient wisdom!”

Arthur’s nostrils flared. “I do not deny that what he did was wrong—although he thought he was doing it for the safety of his people. But you had no right to take your anger out on _them_.”

“They were Uther’s servants. Destroy his servants, and you destroy his power to do harm.”

“And become a butcher of innocent beings yourself!” Arthur shouted.

He almost thought the dragon smiled at him. “Thus speaks the Once and Future King,” the dragon said. “But I wonder how merciful you are when others have betrayed you. Have you never wondered how it was I managed to get free?” He looked over at Merlin, and Arthur followed his gaze. Merlin’s face was white and drawn.

“Kilgarrah,” he said quietly. “I thank you for your help.”

Kilgarrah hesitated a moment, and then bowed his head. “A pleasure as always, young warlock,” he said, and flew off into the night, the wind from his wingbeats almost throwing Arthur backward.

“Merlin. What did he mean about how he got free?” Arthur said sternly.

Merlin took a deep breath. “When I told you about my magic, and what I had done with it… I only told you the things I was proud of.” There were tears in his eyes when he looked up. “I didn’t tell you—about Morgana.”

Arthur frowned in surprise. “What about her?”

“Well, I have to go back a bit, to the attack by Cornelius Sigan. I went to Kilgarrah for advice, and in exchange for his help, I had to promise to free him. I held out for a long time, but at last when the Fires of Idirsholas were lit and the people of Camelot were falling asleep, he insisted that I must free him in exchange for his help. So I promised to set him free—that night.” Merlin swallowed. “The dragon said I had to find the source of the spell, and that it had to be somewhere in Camelot. Eventually, I realized it had to be Morgana—you remember she was unaffected by it. So I—I poisoned her.” Arthur was staring at him now, aghast. “Morgause appeared and agreed to stop the attack in exchange for the name of the poison I had used, so she could counteract it. It was the only way I could save Camelot—but it turned horribly wrong.” The tears began to spill over Merlin’s cheeks. “It is what pushed Morgana over the edge—what made her finally turn her back entirely on Camelot. It made her what she is today.”

“No, it didn’t,” Arthur said gruffly, turning away as Merlin wiped at his face. “It was only the final straw. You did not make her evil—no one did. Evil is a choice that we make, not something someone else can cause us to become.” They were both quiet for a moment as Merlin collected himself again. “So you freed the dragon,” Arthur stated.

Merlin nodded. “I was afraid that he would attack Camelot—but I felt I had no choice. He had helped me so many times in the past, and I had to keep my word. So I freed him.”

“But you _control_ the dragon,” Arthur said, confused. “Why couldn’t you just tell him to stop?”

“I didn’t control him yet,” Merlin answered quickly. “There is only one Dragonlord at a time. And at first, the Dragonlord was—”

“Balinor,” Arthur said, piecing it together. “And when he died—you became the next Dragonlord.”

“Yes. The gift is passed… from father to son.” He held Arthur’s gaze as his friend’s eyes widened.

After a long moment of silence, Arthur stepped forward. “I do not like what you did—but I understand why you felt you had to do it. And though you freed the dragon, you did not _cause_ him to take out his revenge on the people of Camelot any more than you caused Morgana to make the decisions she has made.” He put his hand on Merlin’s arm. “We have both lost our fathers. Let us be good to one another.” Unable to speak, Merlin nodded, gulping. Arthur looked at him for a moment—and then drew him into a hug.

000

There was a celebratory atmosphere in the castle when they returned to it. The knights who had been paralyzed seemed to feel, like Percival, that they had “slept” enough that day, and were inclined to make a late night of it. Gwen had made sure that Gaius’s patients had been moved up to the surgery, where the noise wouldn’t bother them, and had then ordered wine and food brought to the Great Hall for an impromptu celebration. She smiled with relief and ran over to Arthur when he came in—the men who had been healed had told her how they had left the King and Merlin alone with the dragon.

“You’re alright!” she said, giving him a hug. 

“There’s very little danger from dragons when you’re accompanied by the Dragonlord,” Arthur said wryly. Gwen’s eyes widened and she turned to stare at Merlin, who gave a grim little smile.

Gwaine and Gaius walked up before she could say anything. “Everything alright?” Gwaine asked.

Merlin glanced over at Arthur before answering. “Yes. We’re fine.”

“Good.”

“Where’s Anna?”

“She was exhausted. I took her home.”

Merlin nodded. “It was harder on her than it was on me. After all—” he gave a wry smile—“I just had to lie there.”

“I am still astounded that you managed to possess her in the first place,” Gaius observed. “Geoffrey and I looked through the records and the only cases of full possession by a living person that we could find were of the High Priestesses possessing one another.”

“That’s what Morgana said,” Merlin answered. 

“They were only able to do it because they worked magic together,” Gaius explained. “It is usually worked alone. The Druids sometimes perform powerful spells as a group, as when they utilize the Cup of Life, but they are only combining the force of their magic, not working magic _through_ one another. Other than the High Priestesses, you are the only person I have ever heard of who has managed to transfer his power to another person for their use. It’s the only way such a possession would work.”

“It was certainly effective,” Arthur said. “I thought for sure Sifa was done for, but your healing spell was astounding.”

“Anna’s spell,” Merlin corrected him. “My raw power, and Anna’s control of it.”

“You also managed to scare off Morgana pretty completely,” Gwaine said. 

Merlin looked thoughtful. “Maybe it wasn’t me that frightened her,” he said quietly. “She’s not one to run away from an enemy, even a powerful one. Maybe it was the _question_ she was running from.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo, chapter sixty!! Thanks again to anyone who has left kudos or comments--you really make my day!


	61. Chapter 61

Sifa was picking restlessly at her blanket when there was a knock at the door. She heard a murmur of voices around the screen that gave her a little privacy, and then a shuffling step.

“There’s someone here to see you,” Gaius said, looking around the edge of the screen. He stepped away and Guinevere appeared.

“Your Majesty!” Sifa tried to push herself up and gave a little gasp.

“No, no, lie still!” Guinevere exclaimed, rushing forward. “I didn’t come to give you a relapse!”

Sifa smiled a little tremulously. “Gaius says I’m doing much better,” she said hoarsely.

Guinevere sat on the chair by the bed. “I should hope so. Arthur told me all about what you did at the wall. You certainly saved Anna and Merlin—and perhaps all of us.” Sifa dropped her eyes and blushed with pleasure. “I want you to know something, Sifa,” Guinevere went on quietly after a moment. “I never intended to have you executed.” Sifa looked up at her, startled. “I believed that your father would come to save you, and we would catch him. Despite what you did to help Morgana, I never believed you wicked—only misguided. I was glad when you returned. I missed you.” She smiled and Sifa smiled back wonderingly, tears springing to her eyes. 

“When you came to us in the middle of the night, I knew you were telling the truth. Your actions, risking your life first to bring important information to us, and then to save Anna and Merlin, have proven it to everyone. When you are recovered, Arthur would like to offer you a full pardon.”

Sifa swallowed hard. “Thank you, your Majesty!” she said. “I—I really don’t know what to say! I’m not sure I deserve it, after what I’ve done.”

Guinevere shook her head. “Don’t think that way. You are not the person you were then. You are proof to all of Camelot of something Arthur and I have always believed—that a person who has done wrong can repent. Of course,” she went on in a brisker tone, “once you are well you are free to go where you like. But…” She smiled. “My maid, Bethan, has quit her job to help her sister take care of her new baby girl, so I am once more without a maid. I was wondering if you would like to resume your old position?”

Sifa’s eyes shone—her cup ran over. “I would like that, your Majesty. Thank you.”

“That’s settled, then!” Guinevere patted her hand and rose. “I won’t keep you from your rest any longer.” There were voices on the other side of the screen. “I believe that’s Anna and Merlin come to do another healing spell for you. Take care of yourself and get well—I have need of you!”

Sifa heard her exchange greetings with Gaius’s two apprentices, and then Anna appeared around the screen. “Hello! How are you feeling this morning?” she asked in her friendly, businesslike healer-voice. 

“Pretty well,” Sifa answered. “I can talk for longer now.”

“Good! Let me take a look.” Anna pulled down the blanket and opened the front of Sifa’s gown. “Oh yes, that’s looking _much_ better,” she said. “We’ll have you on your feet again in a couple of days.” She tied the front of the gown closed again. “Merlin?”

“Hello Sifa,” he said, coming around the screen. “Ready?”

“Ready,” she nodded. Anna put her hand on Sifa’s chest and Merlin put his hand over Anna’s. “ _Þurhhæle! Ic hæle þina þrowunga_ ,” Anna said, and Sifa watched both their eyes glow.

“There you go!” Anna said, standing up. “Can I get you anything?”

Sifa shook her head. “I’m fine, thank you.” 

“Alright. Then I’m off to do my rounds. See you later, Merlin.” She patted him on the shoulder as she squeezed past.

“Bye.” He smiled down at Sifa for a moment. “Do you mind?” he asked, gesturing to the chair.

“No, no,” she said, waving him into it. He took it, then leaned forward, staring down at his clasped hands for a moment. 

“I didn’t get to thank you properly for what you did for me,” he said quietly. “I mean, I did, but…” he gestured with a wry smile—“not in my own body. Thank you for saving my life. Well—for saving Anna’s. But if that swordsman had killed her, I wouldn’t have been able to communicate: I wouldn’t have been able to summon the dragon. And then I, and all the knights whom Morgana froze, would have starved to death. So thank you.”

It was Sifa’s turn to look down at her hands. “You’re welcome,” she said, smiling a little.

“I have something for you.” He raised his empty hands and cupped them together. “ _Blóstmá_ ,” he whispered, and his eyes glowed. When he opened his hands again, there was a single stalk of white lily-of-the valley. “Here.”

“Oh, Merlin, it’s beautiful! Thank you.” She took it from him and he rose.

“I’ll be back later,” he said, and left, smiling at her over his shoulder.

000 

“They humiliated me!” Morgana raged, pacing back and forth in the Hall of the manor house. 

“It seems to me,” said a disdainful voice from the shadows at the top of the Hall, “you humiliated _yourself_.”

Morgana pressed her lips together, biting back an angry retort. “I won’t stand for this,” she said at last. “I will _crush_ Camelot’s army. I will show Arthur—and Emrys—that I fear no one. That I can snap my fingers and destroy them!”

“That hasn’t worked very well for you so far,” the Gaul pointed out dryly, stepping forward and putting his hand on the back of the chair that Morgana was in the habit of using like a throne. “Where are you going to find the force necessary to… _crush_ Camelot?”

Morgana took a deep breath. “Horsa,” she said.

The Gaul raised an eyebrow. “Horsa’s soldiers are many, but he is violent and difficult to control,” he pointed out. “How can you know he will fight for you?”

“He has reason enough to hate Arthur,” she answered. “The death of his brother Hengist, for instance. He has only waited for a strong ally in order to overrun Albion. I will be that ally—he cannot get a foothold on our shores without my help.”

“And after? When you have destroyed Arthur and all the rest of the kings of Albion?” the Gaul asked. “When you have at last taken your place on the throne of Camelot—how do you know that he will not double-cross you?”

“I wish only to rule Camelot. He may do what he likes with the rest of the lands. We will scatter the kings and leave their courts in ruins—Horsa will have his pick of the kingdoms. He will not want Camelot as well.”

The Gaul shrugged. “Contact this mercenary, then, if you think he will help you,” he said dismissively. “For my part, I am more interested in this Emrys you have told me of—and in the girl he has made into a vessel for his magic.”


	62. Chapter 62

“Are you sure, Gaius?” Anna asked again. “I’m not tired.”

“No, no.” He waved her toward Gwaine, who was standing at the door. “You had a difficult day yesterday—after all, you had two people in your head for most of it!” He smiled. “You go ahead and make sure you get plenty of rest tonight. I can handle things here.”

So Anna gathered up her things, which Gwaine picked up, and left with him. “Let’s go up here,” he said, taking her over to the door that led out onto the parapet. The sunset was just beginning and the light on the stones was golden.

“Mm.” Anna leaned on one of the crenels and looked out over the forest. “Beautiful.” She realized that Gwaine, standing beside her, was unusually silent. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

He was staring out over the forest. “I know we said no secrets, but… I sort of kept one. And I want to tell you.”

When he paused, Anna said, “You can tell me anything.”

“I know.” He smiled at her. “And this isn’t something bad—it’s just something I’ve never mentioned. My family.” Anna waited patiently. “My father… was a noble.” He was looking away again. “He was Lord of Gwalchmei, in Caerleon’s army. But when he was killed in battle, another knight took over my family’s castle and lands and threw us out—my mother and my sister and me. We were shuffled off from one family member or old servant to another, and when my mother finally died several years later, I took to wandering. And that’s how I met Arthur and Merlin. Merlin’s the only one who knows all this—I never even told Arthur. Or Percival. And I know,” he said, shifting his weight and smiling wryly down at his hands on the edge of the crenel, “that now that I’m a knight again, it shouldn’t matter—that I have land and a knighthood myself and I don’t need my father’s title. But maybe it’s not the same. I’m known here as a commoner-knight. The thing is…” His jaw hardened. “I don’t really _want_ my father’s status, or his lands. Except for one reason.” He looked up. “If _you_ want them.”

Anna stared at him with a confused look on her face. “Gwaine, sometimes you are _over_ -chivalrous,” she said at last. “Why would it matter so much that you were noble born?”

“Because of you,” he answered. “You _deserve_ a lord.”

“Oh, yes.” Anna tossed her head and turned up her nose. “A physician’s apprentice deserves nothing less than a lord,” she said in a high-class accent. “Actually, an apprentice isn’t nearly romantic enough for the best ballads. I should have been a milkmaid.”

“It’s not because of what you _are_ ,” Gwaine interrupted, grabbing her arms in an attempt to get her attention. “It’s because of _you_. You deserve a lord. You deserve someone better than…” he gestured toward himself, unable to quite finish the sentence. “You shouldn’t be with a drunken adventurer turned commoner-knight. You should have a lord, kneeling at your feet.”

“Gwaine.” She put her hand to his cheek, all trace of the playfully mocking tone gone from her voice. “I don’t _want_ a lord kneeling at my feet. All I want is _you_. Standing by my side.”

He looked down at her, a tender smile growing on his face. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Anna.” He took her hand. “Will you—”

“Not yet.”

“What?”

“Don’t ask me yet.”

He dropped her hand. “You don’t even know what I was going to ask you.”

“Yes I do,” she said, smiling. After a moment, he smiled back. “But not yet.”

“Why not?”

She took a deep breath. “Something bad is coming. We both know that. The Saxon presence in Albion has been growing stronger for months, and after yesterday’s defeat, Morgana won’t rest until she’s dead, or has succeeded in taking Camelot. War is coming.”

“All the more reason!” He took her hand again. “I want to have the right to protect you.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to divide your priorities. You have a duty to protect your king. You saw what happened yesterday when Morgana threw down the gate—I took over, I stopped Merlin from going to Arthur so that I could go to _you_. I put you ahead of my king and my country. I don’t want to put you in the same position. I want you to save Arthur first—save Camelot first."

“It wouldn’t make _that_ much of a difference—”

“Yes,” she interrupted, with a smile and what looked like a blush. “It would.” She took his hand. “When all of this is over—then ask me again.”

 

“But what if—what if we, you and I, don’t—”

She squeezed his hand, stopping his sentence. “Gwaine, do you remember the night you were sick and I sat up with you?”

“It’s pretty fuzzy,” he said, confused. “I think I was delirious most of the time. I remember you singing to me.”

“Do you remember what you said that convinced me to sing?” He shook his head. “You said that I had magic, that I was more powerful than Morgana, that she would run at the sight of me.”

He grinned. “I really was delirious.”

“But you were right!” she said. “Yesterday, when Merlin was possessing me—I _was_ more powerful than Morgana, and she _did_ run at the sight of me. And I _do_ have magic.”

He frowned. “What are you saying?”

“I think you have a little of the Sight,” she said earnestly. “Just a little. Some people who have it only have prophetic dreams—because that’s the only way they can access their ability. You were delirious—dreaming while you were awake. And I think you reached something you usually couldn’t. You told the truth—you told the future.” She took his arms and looked squarely at him. “Access it now. Reach down for that truth, and tell me: are you and I going to make it through this war?”

He stared at her for a moment, then closed his eyes, a look of intense concentration on his face. After a long minute, he shook his head and opened them again. “I don’t know,” he said in frustration.

“You were delirious before, not concentrating like that. What did it feel like to be delirious?”

He shook his head. “Um… I was hot all over, like I was burning up, and my heart was fluttering, my head spun—”

Anna caught his face in both her hands and kissed him. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him, taking her almost off her feet. Finally she broke the kiss.

“Do we make it?” she asked again, a little breathless.

Gwaine smiled. “Yes. And let me tell you,” he added, pulling her closer again, “the moment it’s over, you’re going to give me an answer to that question or Heaven help you.”

Anna’s laugh was cut off when he kissed her again.


	63. Chapter 63

As Anna and Gwaine strolled arm-in-arm through the town, Gwaine told her about his family.

“And then there’s my sister,” he said darkly.

“What’s she like?”

Gwaine opened his mouth to describe her in the usual terms—‘a toad’—and then realized Anna probably wouldn’t like that. “She’s awful,” he said. “When we were thrown out of the castle and traveling around, all she would do was complain. She kept taking things out on our mother. It wasn’t Mama’s fault that sonofabitch kicked us out. And it wasn’t her fault we didn’t have money for nice clothes or food and sometimes had to work at the manor houses we stayed at.” He took a deep breath. “She got engaged and went to live with her fiancé’s family—and almost entirely stopped talking to us. It broke our mother’s heart. So when she died, I didn’t even bother to tell Florie where I was going. I just left.”

“Is that the last time you saw her?” He nodded. “How old was she?”

He calculated for a moment. “Eighteen.”

“Gwaine.” She stopped in her tracks and he stopped too, confused. “Are you telling me you’re judging an adult woman based on what she was like as a _teenager?_ ”

He blinked at her. “Yes. I suppose I am,” he said at last.

“ _Nobody_ deserves to be judged by what they do at that age,” she stated categorically, walking on. “You said you were very poor?”

“Yes?”

“And she was probably interested in boys—boys of a certain class—and didn’t want them to know how poor you were.”

He frowned, remembering how Florie would disappear for a few hours, wearing her nicest dress, and then refuse to tell her mother where she had been. “Maybe.”

After a moment Anna suggested, “Perhaps, when this is all over, you could find her. See how she is. Maybe she’s sorry now for the way she behaved. Maybe she misses you. You could go visit Annis’s kingdom.”

“We,” he said, smiling down at her. “We could visit.”

She smiled and took his hand. “We.”

000  
They had stayed up too late the night before celebrating their victory with the soldiers to have time to talk, so Arthur, Merlin and Gwen met in Arthur’s room that evening to talk. Merlin filled Gwen in on the things he had told Arthur the night before.

“So it was the dragon who told you to poison Morgana,” Gwen clarified.

“Yes. When I first found out that Morgana had magic, Kilgharrah told me it was better if she never learned the true extent of her powers. But I didn’t listen. I encouraged her to seek out the Druids. And when Morgana fell and was at death’s door, the Dragon didn’t want to help me save her—he said if she died Arthur’s doom would never come on him. Kilgharrah also told me, when Mordred first came to Morgana, to let the boy die. He said that Mordred would one day kill Arthur.”

Gwen and Arthur both looked horrified. “But Mordred _loves_ Arthur,” Gwen objected. “He would never harm him!”

“Not now.” Merlin explained about the ultimatum of the Disir. “But when you legalized magic, it changed everything. The Dís said their judgment no longer hung over Camelot—that Mordred would not be the instrument of your doom.”

“So a destiny can change,” Gwen said quietly.

“Yes. But that’s the only thing the Dragon has ever told me that didn’t come true,” Merlin pointed out. “When Morgana learned that she had magic… things didn’t turn out so well.”

“Are you sorry?” Arthur asked. “That you didn’t kill her when you had the chance?”

Merlin thought for a moment. “No,” he said at last. “I wish she hadn’t caused as much harm as she has—but that was her decision. I felt that letting her die when I could save her would be wrong—it would be like murder. To die in battle is one thing; to murder is another.” He thought for a moment. “Kilgharrah doesn’t know everything. It turned out well in Mordred’s case—he’s no longer a threat. Perhaps Morgana may someday be the same. I think there’s some good in her yet.”

They were all silent for awhile. “There’s one thing you haven’t told us yet,” Arthur said at last. “What did you mean when you said I was Emrys?”

“That’s what the Druids call me,” Merlin explained, turning a little pink. “There is a prophecy about me. I don’t know all of us, but it is said that Arthur Pendragon, the Once and Future King, will unite the land of Albion. My job as Emrys is to keep you safe so that you can do it. Kilgharrah said that without me, you will never succeed: there will be no Albion.”

He looked up at Arthur in a little trepidation, but Arthur and Gwen were grinning at each other. “Well, judging from the number of times you saved my life while I was conveniently unconscious,” Arthur said, clapping Merlin on the back, “I think you’ve fulfilled your destiny already.” Merlin grinned. “So why is Morgana so afraid of you?”

“She’s afraid of Emrys. She doesn’t know I’m him. When Agravaine was working for her, she was desperate to find out who I was.”

“And if she does find out?”

“It will be a repeat of the time she poisoned me. She’ll make sure to get me out of the way first.”

“And then you won’t be able to help us when she attacks.” Arthur nodded. “Luckily, only the knights knew that you possessed Anna. We’ll tell them all to keep it a secret and hope word never gets back to her.”

There was a knock at the door, and Geoffrey and Gaius entered. “We have come to report on the information we found on Elïavrés, also known as the Gaul,” Geoffrey announced.

Arthur waved them to chairs. “Please.”

“Most of what we have on his life after he came to Albion is rumor. For the most part, he chooses to act through others. He has been a shadowy power behind three, possibly four thrones, all of which came to ruin,” Geoffrey said, spreading out the papers and books he had brought, and opening one tome in particular. “The fullest account we have of his doings is from the first kingdom he destroyed: that of Caradoc, king of Gwent.”

Gaius jumped in with the air of someone trying to stop Geoffrey from going into too much detail. “There is a particularly nasty part at the beginning where he places a spell on Caradoc which causes the king to—ahem—confuse various animals with his wife in the bedroom. Meanwhile, Elïavrés had an affair with Caradoc’s queen. Caradoc raised their son, Freichfras, as his own. When Freichfras discovered the truth, he went after Elïavrés.”

Geoffrey cleared his throat with a look that communicated his annoyance that Gaius had taken over as the historian in this little conference. “In the fight, Elïavrés summoned a serpent that wrapped itself about Freichfras’s arm, crippling him and draining away his life’s energy.” He pulled out another book. “There are other cases of such spells. I refer first to the _Life of Tatheus_ , which states—”

“Suffice it to say,” Gaius finished, “Freichfras barely managed to escape with his life. His arm was crippled ever after, and he suffered from such ill health that after Caradoc died, Freichfras himself, the only potential heir to the throne of Gwent, died two years later. After that, Elïavrés disappears from the records except as a shadowy figure. He learned his lesson, and seems to have exerted his power more subtly, preferring to protect himself through secrecy and insidious influence. The fact that he has aligned himself with Morgana indicates that he considers her a considerable force—though it is likely he will ultimately betray her. But probably not until after he helps her conquer Camelot. _If_ she wins, that is,” he corrected himself quickly. 

“Meanwhile, his power is nothing to sniff at,” Geoffrey added, glaring at Gaius out of the corner of his eye. “The incident with Caradoc and the animals is an example of the kind of sick pleasure he takes in cruelty, and from all accounts, his magical abilities are… quite impressive. The fact that he has something to teach Morgana demonstrates that.”

Arthur shook his head. “Thank you, gentlemen. I imagine Morgana and the Gaul are raising an army for the next onslaught. I would suggest that we do the same."


	64. Chapter 64

Percival breathed a sigh of relief. It was so nice just to have some time to relax. Ever since Morgana’s attack on Camelot a month ago, they had all been running around like chickens with their heads cut off, recruiting and training troops for an attack they knew would be coming soon. Percival had finally managed to wrangle a day off out of Leon, and had put off his chainmail to ride into the woods for a spot of fishing.

He found the perfect place—a grassy bank by a cheerfully burbling stream. Leaving his horse to graze, Percival settled himself down with a fishing pole he had borrowed from one of the stablehands, put some bait on the hook, and then sat back against a tree to enjoy the day.

It was cool under the shade of the trees, and the birds were singing. Percival closed his eyes and listened to them, to the wind in the branches, the rustling of the leaves…

—and a scream.

Percival sat up straight. That was a woman’s voice.

Dropping his rod on the ground, Percival sprang to his feet and raced through the forest to the source of the sound. There were the sounds of struggle—then someone running—then a shriek.

Percival saw draggled blonde curls, a girl falling to the ground, unable to get up, trying to scoot backward from a man who ran forward, about to throw himself on top of her.

No time—or reason—to stop his momentum. Percival pounded up, grabbed the man’s shoulder, spun him around, and punched him directly in the face. There was a crack as his fist connected with the man’s nose, and the man dropped like a rag doll. Percival had pulled his punch at the last moment so as not to entirely knock the man unconscious, but the would-be attacker stared up at him, stunned, as Percival loomed over him.

“I should kill you,” Percival growled, looking and sounding unconsciously like a huge bear, “but I’ll let you live so you can tell anyone you meet: if I _ever_ catch you or any of your cronies threatening a woman again, I will make you wish you had never been born.”

The man stared up at him in abject terror for a moment, then climbed unsteadily to his feet and made off through the trees as fast as his staggering legs would let him.

Percival heard a whimper behind him: the girl had tried to climb to her feet again, but an injured ankle wouldn’t let her, and she sank to the ground.

Percival knelt down a few feet from her. Her face, though white and pinched with pain, was lovely—a little heart-shaped face, full lips, long-lashed, brilliantly blue eyes, all framed by golden curls—just now, a little tangled and dirty. Her eyes were still wide with alarm and she was panting piteously. And, Percival thought for a moment, she looked vaguely familiar.

“It’s alright—you’re safe now,” he said kindly. “My name’s Percy. What’s yours?”

“L—Lily,” she panted.

“Lily. May I examine your ankle?” he asked.

After a moment she nodded, and he very slowly, very gently, unlaced and removed her boot, pausing when she winced. Her ankle was swollen, but didn’t seem, when he felt it, to be broken.

“I think it’s sprained. There’s a physician in Camelot who could take a look at it. It’s not far away, and we could get you something to eat and a place to sleep. May I take you there?”

“Yes—thank you,” she said faintly. She reached out her hand to be helped up, but instead Percival scooped her up in his arms, carrying her as gently as if she were made of glass. She clung to his neck with one arm and held tightly to her boot with the other. She was shaking in his arms, feeling to him as delicate as an injured bird.

In a few minutes he located his horse, and placing her lightly on the saddlebow, he sprang up behind her and made for Camelot.

She was silent as they rode, but Percival could feel, with his arms around her to hold the reins, that she wasn’t stiff—it was the silence of exhaustion and upset, not fear. So he began to talk: innocuous comments about the weather, how the crops were doing, to whom the fields they passed belonged. She answered him a few times, her voice getting stronger every time. Finally they entered Camelot, and Percival pulled up in the courtyard. 

“Oh, Trefor!” he exclaimed as the man came up to take the horse’s reins. “I completely forgot your fishing pole! I’ll have to go back for it.”

“That’s alright, Sir,” Trefor said, sneaking a curious look at Lily as Percival helped her down from his gigantic horse. He carried her up to Gaius’s surgery.

“Oh dear, what happened?” Gaius asked, rising from the table as Percival came in.

“Sprained ankle, I think,” Percival answered, setting her down gently on the edge of the cot in the corner. 

Gaius examined her. “I believe you’re right. What’s your name, my dear?” he asked.

Before she could answer, Anna entered, just returned from her rounds in the lower town.

“Ceri’s daughter seems to have colic,” she announced, “and—LILY!”

“ANNIE!” Lily shrieked, and in a moment they were in each other’s arms. A confused flurry of questions and answers followed. 

“I take it you know each other, then?” Gaius said dryly when they paused for air.

“Oh! Sorry—Gaius, Sir Percival: my sister, Lilwen.”

So _that_ was why she looked familiar, Percival thought. There wasn’t much general resemblance between them, but there was a similarity in their noses and the shapes of their eyes.

“ _Sir_ Percival?” Lily was saying, looking up at him in surprise.

“Yes—a knight of Camelot,” Anna answered, checking over the ankle Gaius had just examined. 

“A knight in shining armor—without the armor!” Lily exclaimed, the presence of her sister seeming to have loosened her tongue. “He rescued me,” she explained when her sister looked up at her curiously. “Just like a fairy tale.” She smiled up at Percival, who blushed.

“It was nothing,” he muttered, unable to hide a smile.

“I was never gladder of anything than when you decked him! BAM!” She threw her fist out.

Anna raised her eyebrows. “I need to hear _this_ story.” She stood up to fetch a bandage to wrap her sister’s ankle with. “I thought you were in Deganwy?”

“I was. Until Morgana’s forces came through,” she added darkly.

“Morgana’s in Deganwy?” Percival exclaimed.

“Not anymore. They were heading east. I got out before they came and headed south because I knew the last time I’d heard, you were in Camelot. But I got separated from my group when they were attacked by bandits, and you know I never _could_ navigate to save my life. I got lost, and then this man started chasing me—and then Percy stepped in.” She smiled up at him again.

_Percy?_ Gaius mouthed at Anna, but she just grinned and shook her head.

“Well, I, um, should go tell Arthur about Morgana’s movements,” Percival said, moving backward toward the door and almost running into the table. “It was nice meeting you, Lily.”

“It was nice being rescued by you, Sir Percival,” Lily twinkled. “Thank you again.”

“My pleasure.” He smiled, nodded to her, and left.

“Goodbye, Sir Percival,” Gaius called to him.

“Oh! Goodbye. Goodbye, Anna,” Percival said, sticking his head back in the door, his face cherry-red. Anna’s shoulders began to shake with laughter.


	65. Chapter 65

They soon learned why Morgana was heading east. News arrived that a large Saxon force had landed at Rutupiae, and had overrun the shore forts with the help of Morgana’s soldiers. The leader of the Saxons, it was rumored, was a man named Horsa. The Council was in session when the news reached Camelot, and Merlin saw Arthur grow grave at the mention of Horsa’s name.

“Who is Horsa?” Merlin asked as soon as the messenger had withdrawn.

“You remember Hengist?” Arthur said.

“Of course.” How could he forget the bandit leader who had kidnapped Gwen and held her to ransom thinking she was Morgana?

“Horsa is his brother.” Merlin stared at Arthur, and Guinevere grew a little pale. “What you may not have heard at that time is that there was a history between my father and the Saxon brothers. That is part of the reason my father was so hesitant to go to Guinevere’s rescue.”

“What history?”

Arthur looked at Gaius. “I’m sure you know the story better than I do.”

“You may have heard Uther say that he gained the throne of Camelot through conquest,” Gaius said to Merlin, leaning forward. “It was, perhaps, a slight exaggeration. The last king was a man named Vortigern. When the Romans withdrew from Albion, the land broke once more into various kingdoms, picking back up the old traditions of our ancestors. As the land was no longer unified, the kingdoms were threatened by Scots and Picts. Vortigern was a weak ruler, insecure in his position. So he hired two mercenaries from Saxony: the young brothers Hengist and Horsa, and their troops. He offered them land in exchange for military service. And for a short time, they kept their word.

“But eventually the Saxons realized what a fertile land this was and how easy Vortigern himself would be to overthrow. They brought more and more men to Albion, and eventually became more of a threat to Camelot than the Scots and the Picts they were supposed to be fighting. The brothers were both of a vicious nature, and didn’t care whom they harmed in their quest for more land and more power.

“At last, Vortigern went with his most trusted councilors to the brothers’ meadhall to sue for peace. Hengist and Horsa, after agreeing that no harm would come to them, had the doors locked and slaughted Vortigern and all his councilors. Only one escaped: Ambrosius Aurelianus of the de Bois family, Igraine’s father.

“The young Uther, a minor member of the court, was a rising star in Camelot’s military, and Aurelianus knew he was the man to find a strategy that would defeat the Saxons. Along with Aurelianus’s son Tristan de Bois, Uther led Camelot’s armies to victory. Hengist and his men held on in the east as a bandit lord with only a small following of his most loyal Saxons, but Horsa and his men had to escape to the continent. Aurelianus saw to it that Uther was crowned king, and Uther married Aurelianus’s daughter. Camelot had peace, and a new ruling family.”

“But now Hengist is dead—by what he surely considers my hand,” Arthur summed up, “and Horsa is back with his army, and is allied with our greatest enemy: the daughter of his old foe. He wants revenge, and on the way seeks to gain what he has always wanted: power and the rich land of Albion.”

“He will not get them,” Guinevere said calmly. “Thanks to your diplomacy, many of the kingdoms of Albion are once more united. We are in a stronger position to repel Horsa’s attack than Uther was.” She smiled. “And the Knights of the Round Table are second to none.”

000

Percival swallowed hard and knocked at Gaius’s door.

“Come in,” Anna called.

He pushed the door open and ducked under the doorway. “Erm,” he said, feeling too large for the space, “is Lily… receiving visitors?”

Anna looked down at the bunch of wildflowers in Percival’s hand and repressed a smile. “Let me just check. Lily?” she said stepping around the screen that blocked the view of her sister’s cot in the corner. There was a shuffling and whispering that Percival strongly suspected was the sound of Anna helping her sister to make herself presentable for her visit. Finally Anna pushed back the screen and pulled up a chair. “I have an errand to run,” she announced to no one in particular, and left the room.

“Well!” Lily’s eyes lit up. “Percy!” She took in the glory of his chainmail, his sweeping crimson cloak. “Oh, I mean, Sir Percival!”

“No, no.” He stepped forward. “I told you to call me Percy. Oh, um… These are for you.” He held out the bouquet.

“How lovely!” she exclaimed, breaking into a smile that showed her dimples. “I think there’s a vase over there.”

He put the flowers in water and brought them over to the table by her bed. “I love them!” she said, burying her face in them and breathing their fragrance. “Did you pick them yourself?” He nodded. “Thank you,” she said, dimpling again.

He smiled back, then shifted awkwardly in his chair, trying to think of something to say. He cleared his throat nervously.

“Did you retrieve poor Trefor’s fishing pole?” Lily teased, and he laughed. 

“Yes—as soon as I had reported to Sir Leon. He’s the King’s right-hand man,” he explained.

“Are all the knights…” she looked up him and down with a twinkle in her eye, “as _big_ as you?”

He laughed again. “No—although Leon’s about my height.”

“I’d like to meet them.”

“I’ll introduce you,” he offered—“as soon as you’re on your feet again.”

“Anna says I’ll be alright to walk tomorrow—after a session with her and Merlin. I was so shocked when she told me she had magic!”

“How long has it been since you’ve seen each other?”

She frowned in thought. “We haven’t seen much of each other since our father died—we both went out as apprentices in different towns, because there weren’t many opportunities in our little village, and our mother couldn’t support us on our small bit of land. We both went home when our mother was dying, and afterward we saw the land sold.” Percival made a sympathetic noise. “I hadn’t seen Annie since then—though we could both read and write, so once in awhile we had a chance to write to each other,” she added proudly. The last letter I got from her said that she had gotten a new master in Camelot. What about you?” she asked. “Do you have any family?”

He shook his head. “My family was killed when Cenred raided our village,” he said. “But I’ve found a new family here, among the knights.” He smiled. “You’ve come to a good place,” he told her. “The people here welcome those in distress.”

Lily smiled and glanced at her flowers again. “So they do,” she agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait between chapters! (I seem to be saying that a lot, don’t I?) On Tuesday I moved back to Ohio for the school year. Classes start Monday, so I’m likely to be pretty busy. My updating schedule won’t be as frequent, but I plan to write at least a chapter a week—I don’t do homework on Sundays, so that’s likely to be my most common updating day. At least I’ve gotten to the final plot arc for this fic! (--she says at the end of chapter 65…)


	66. Chapter 66

“My lady.” One of Morgana’s guards rode up to her. “There is a village a short way ahead—a place called Addington. I have arranged a place for you to stay the night.”

Morgana nodded. “Very well—lead on.”

She had split off from Horsa’s troop, disliking the noise and the carousing of the Saxons. Lack of sleep made her magic more difficult to control—and frankly, she had enough problems with sleeplessness already without noisy, drunken soldiers adding to the problem. She wished she could use her mother’s healing bracelet—but Guinevere still had it from when she stole it in the Dark Tower. Morgana fought the urge to grind her teeth.

At least these villages, in the east, were more open to the idea of magic. Her fame had preceded her—many of them knew her name, and that she fought for magic against those in the west who had outlawed it. Some of them had even heard that she had been allied at one point with Queen Annis. Many of the people were tolerant of her, and some even welcoming. She had managed to recruit a few sorcerers to her cause, and they had joined the small contingent that traveled with her.

The village her guard guided her to was a small but prosperous one. A brook ran by it, and behind the village Morgana could see two ancient barrows. It was likely a good place for magic, then.

The guard directed her to one of the larger houses, where she was greeted by Gethin, a wealthy merchant, and his wife Adlais. Both of them seemed eager to welcome her into their home: they showed her to a room she might stay in, and Adlais herself brought her a luxurious dinner of chicken and fruits. They also had bread and tankards of drink carried out to Morgana’s guards, who were encamped nearby.

“Thank you for the meal, Adlais—it was delicious,” Morgana said politely. Adlais smiled and curtsied, leaving the door open behind her as she carried the plates back into the kitchen. Morgana set about preparing herself for bed when she saw a movement by the door. “Who’s there?” she asked, a little more harshly than she intended.

A young girl whom she recognized as Gethin and Adlais’s daughter stepped into the doorway, wide-eyed with apprehension. “I—I’m sorry, my lady,” she said, curtsying.

Morgana let out her breath, feeling a little guilty for scaring her. “Come here, my dear,” she said more gently, sitting down by the small table. The girl approached warily. She was a pretty thing—delicately formed, with large, dark eyes, curly black and and sun-browned skin. “What is your name?” 

“Seren, my lady.”

“Seren.” Morgana smiled. “I have something for you. _Árære fífaldan_ ,” she murmured, and raised her hands. Blue butterflies flew out of her wide sleeves, making a halo like a garland of flowers about Seren’s head. 

The girl gazed up at them in surprise and delight, raising her hand so that one might light on her fingers. “Beautiful,” she murmured. The butterflies swirled about near the ceiling, then flew out the open shutters. “You _are_ a great sorceress!” she said excitedly.

Morgana smiled. “Yes. Have you ever seen magic before?”

The girl smiled shyly and turned toward the brazier nearby. “ _Bærne_ ,” she whispered, stretching her hand out toward it. A small flame shot up from the wood.

Morgana’s smile grew. “You have magic!” she exclaimed. “Who taught you the spell?”

“My mother,” Seren said, clearly pleased. “She has a little magic—though she says I show more promise than she did at my age.”

“Does anyone else know of your magic?”

Seren nodded. “I’ve shown my friends. And our neighbor asks me to come light her kitchen fire when it goes out.”

“You’re blessed,” Morgana said, taking Seren’s hand. “Where I grew up, people feared those who had magic. When I realized I had it, I was afraid for my life. But you have had the good luck to be born where magic is accepted and celebrated. Never forget how much you have been blessed.” Seren nodded solemnly. “Good.” She let go of her hand. “I am leaving in the morning to meet my army, but I will return in a few days and stay with your family. When I do, I will show you how to conjure a flower.”

Seren smiled in elation. “Thank you, my lady!” She ran over to the door, then turned and dropped a curtsy. “Good night!”

“Good night, Seren,” Morgana said, smiling.

She slept well that night.

000

“Where shall we strike first, my lady?” Horsa asked in his guttural Saxon accent. 

Morgana examined the map he had spread out before her on the table, trying to ignore the reek of his huge body and his breath so nearby. “Nemeth is the first in our path westward. It has been weakened recently—Odin’s army attacked and even drove Rodor into temporary exile. Although Odin has made peace with Nemeth and Rodor is back on the throne, his army is still in a poor state to defend the land. They should be no match for your army.”

“Does our agreement still hold?” Horsa asked, the smell of onions rolling from his mouth. Morgana attempted to breathe through her mouth only. “I can take all the plunder?”

“What use have I for plunder?” Morgana asked disdainfully. “Yes, take it—just remember that we travel light. Don’t let your men bring anything that would slow us in our career westward.”

“Wouldn’t think of it.” Horsa bit noisily into an apple. 

“Good.” She waited a moment while he chewed with his mouth open. “Shouldn’t you go tell your men?” she asked dryly.

He shrugged one shoulder and sauntered out of the tent. Morgana heaved a sigh of annoyance and leaned both hands on the table.

“Having second thoughts?”

Morgana jumped and wheeled around. “Elïavrés,” she growled. “You startled me.”

“Not a very biddable man, is he?” the Gaul asked, ignoring her statement.

“He wouldn’t be a very good commander if he were,” Morgana answered shortly, turning back toward the map.

“But you don’t _want_ a good commander—you want a good officer. Who will do as he’s told.”

“Good officers don’t come with their own armies,” she replied. “What do you want, Elïavrés?”

“Merely to see how you were holding up,” he said lightly, picking up an apple from the bowl on the table. “How have you been sleeping?”

“Quite well,” Morgana answered, piqued.

“Oh?”

“The nearer I come to destroying the works of Uther Pendragon and his son, to creating a world without their darkness and hatred, the better I sleep,” she answered. “Speaking of which, I must go and see to the pitching of my own tent, somewhat away from Horsa’s men. We ride to battle tomorrow.” She brushed past the Gaul and out of the tent. He merely grinned as she strode away, and took a bite of his apple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How’s everybody doing? It’s weird to be only updating once a week, but I really can’t do more—the first couple weeks of the semester are always crazy. But my new roommate and I are getting on like a house on fire, and both the classes I’m teaching are going well. Hope everybody else who’s back to school is having a great first week!


	67. Chapter 67

“Elyan, have you seen Merlin?” Gwen asked, walking up to her brother where he was talking with Bors in the corridor.

“I think he’s tidying up Arthur’s room,” Elyan answered.

But when Guinevere stepped into Arthur’s chamber, it appeared empty. Then she heard a sound, and saw Merlin peeking through the door into her own chamber. Silently craning her neck to look past him, Gwen saw what was happening. Sifa was tidying her chamber. She would take some of the gowns off of the dressing screen where they had been hung, and fold them away neatly in the cupboard. While he back was turned, the blankets on the bed would pull themselves up and smooth themselves out. Sifa would laugh, then go to clean something else, putting the remains of breakfast on a tray. While she was occupied at the table, the mop would dunk itself in the bucket and scrub a spot out of the floor. By the time the room was clean, Sifa was laughing as Gwen had never heard her laugh before, not even in the old days.

Retreating silently to the corridor, Gwen knocked apologetically at the door of Arthur’s chamber. Merlin jumped spun around. “Your majesty!”

“Hello, Merlin. Arthur requires your presence in the Council Chamber.” Merlin nodded and followed her back down the stairs.

000

“It’s started,” Arthur said when Merlin and Gwen walked in the door. “A messenger has come from Nemeth. Morgana attacked them, knowing that Rodor’s army is still weak from Odin’s invasion. A messenger has come from them, asking that they be granted refuge in Camelot—which of course we will grant.”

“And both of them are well—King Rodor and Princess Mithian?” Leon asked.

Arthur gave him a tight smile. “Yes—they are both coming, with the troops that are left to them.”

“Geoffrey, have you checked the records?” Guinevere asked. “Do we have the food to support refugees?”

He nodded. “We had a good harvest this year. We are well placed to host our friends.”

Arthur nodded. “Morgana and Horsa seem to have bypassed Odin’s kingdom, but if they continue westward toward Camelot, they will pass closely by Annis’s lands,” he said, pointing at the map. “She may be their next target. Annis’s armies are strong, but I do not know if they can withstand Horsa’s. We must be prepared to host more of our allies if Horsa wins. Leon.” He turned to his captain. “Send soldiers down into the town and the surrounding areas to warn them of Rodor’s approach. They can direct Nemeth’s soldiers toward the fallow fields on the east side of the town for their encampment. And see to it that the Crown purchases enough grain to feed our guests.”

“Yes, Sire.” Leon bowed and left, and Arthur looked at Merlin. “What are you thinking?” he asked quietly.

“I’m wondering if Rodor and Camelot’s forces combined will be enough to hold off Horsa’s armies,” Merlin said, staring down at the small depiction of Camelot on the map. “With Morgana possibly taking out entire swaths of soldiers at a word as she did in her last attack… I don’t know how much of a chance any of us stand.”

000

Four full days with Horsa’s men was _more_ than enough, Morgana decided. Even when those days constituted the overthrow of one of Camelot’s allies. She was glad for their victory, but gladder yet to be returning to Addington and Gethin’s house, away from the reek of men and the guttural sound of the uncouth Saxon language. She had slept poorly the last few days, and hoped in Addington at least she could find some temporary peace.

“I don’t know why you insisted on coming back here,” Elïavrés grumbled. He too had had his fill of Saxons, and had decided to ride with Morgana and her guard. “This road takes us half a day out of our way.”

“It is half a day well spent to get us away from Horsa of the stinking breath,” Morgana said between her teeth. She knew the Gaul would not appreciate the real reason: that Morgana had genuinely enjoyed her time with Gethin and his family before, and that she had promised to teach Seren that spell.

At long last, they came around the southern side of the barrow, and Addington came into view. But something was wrong. The small, neat houses were no longer so neat: splintered doors and gaping holes in the wall met Morgana’s eye. She could hear the lowing of cattle and the clucking of chickens, but not the voices of men.

Horsa’s soldiers had marched through the village. And just as they had in Rodor’s castle, they had ruined and destroyed the things in their path. Tey had left the livestock, considering it too difficult to bring it with them, but had plundered the nicer houses. Like Gethin’s.

Morgana urged her horse into a canter and rode up to Gethin’s large, handsome house. The door was broken, swinging crookedly on its hinges. Morgana slid quickly out of the saddle and ran inside.

She nearly tripped over a body and came skidding to a halt. It was Gethin himself, lying face-up, his eyes staring unseeing at the roof. Beside him lay one of the serving girls.

Morgana raised her head at the sound of a sob coming from one of the inner rooms. She paced quicked down toward the very chamber she had stayed in so few days ago, and froze in the doorway. Adlai was huddled in the corner—cradling the body of her daughter. There was a great, bloody gash on the side of Seren’s throat and her head lolled backward on her broken neck. Adlai looked up at Morgana, but couldn’t seem to form any words. She didn’t need to: her wild, staring eyes said enough.

Morgana felt the bile rise in her throat. She turned and stumbled back through the house, desperate to get away, to get back into the sunlight. When she was nearly at the door, a sound made her turn. A Saxon soldier came out of the storeroom, carrying two large silver candlesticks.

Morgana’s vision flashed red. “ _Áræme_ ,” she spat, reaching out a claw-like hand. The Saxon gave a shout and dropped the candlesticks as he rose up into the air, almost to the roof. “ _Ádumbe_ ,” she snarled, and his shouting stopped, though his mouth still worked, his eyes starting with horror. “ _Ácunnae þá cwealmnesse þæt þu anbesettedest þes dæg!_ ” she commanded, her voice rising almost into a shriek. The Saxon writhed in agony, still suspended in the air.

“Morgana!” Elïavrés shouted. 

Morgana, turning a deaf ear, snapped her hand closed in a fist. There was a hideous snapping noise as the Saxon’s neck broke. He fell to the ground.

“Having a tantrum?” Elïavrés asked scornfully.

Morgana was panting with fury, her chest heaving, and her eyes burning with unshed tears. “He will _pay_ for what he has done!” she spat, ignoring him.

“It looks like he’s paid already,” Elïavrés said dispassionately.

“Not him! Horsa!”

“Horsa didn’t kill these people,” the Gaul pointed out. 

“But his men did. And a commander is responsible for his men!”

“You were the one who told Horsa his men could have all the plunder they could carry,” Elïavrés pointed out, sounding almost bored. “You knew what kind of a man he was when you invited him to these shores. You have no one to blame but yourself if you cannot control over your own mercenaries.” He turned and left the house, adding over his shoulder, “Let’s find somewhere else to spend the night.”

But Morgana remained, staring down at the dead Saxon at her feet, his eyes, frozen in death, almost starting from their sockets in horror. Suddenly she turned and nearly ran from the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The spell she uses to torture the Saxon probably has horrible grammar (because I don’t actually know Anglo-Saxon), but I was trying to say, “Experience the pain that you inflicted this day.”


	68. Chapter 68

“Hello, Merlin!”

Merlin looked up from the path to see the small figure of Lily waving gaily at him, and picked up his speed a little, schooling his face into a smile. Percival was with Lily, apparently taking an evening stroll in the woods around Camelot, and as Merlin approached, he saw Percival take her hand to help her over a log.

“Where are you headed?” Percival asked Merlin caught up to them. Gwaine and Anwen were only a short distance beyond, arm-in-arm.

“Oh, just stretching my legs,” Merlin lied easily.

“Don’t be out too late,” Percival warned him.

“I won’t,” Merlin said cheerfully and passed on. “Gathering herbs?” he asked when he caught up with the other two. 

Gwaine hefted Anwen’s basket, which he was carrying for her. “Yep!” he answered cheerfully. “Did Arthur let you off of candle-snuffing duty tonight?”

“Eh, he can do it himself for once,” Merlin shrugged.

Anna was frowning at him. “Are you alright?” she asked quietly. 

Merlin’s smile even _felt_ fake. “I’ll be fine. I just have some… business tonight.”

Gwaine nodded. “Be careful.” He and Anna passed on toward Camelot after Percival and Lily, and Merlin walked on in the gathering darkness. When he reached a clearing that was shaded from the view of Camelot, he called the dragon.

It didn’t take Kilgarrah long to appear: he must have been somewhere nearby. “Why have you called me, young warlock?” he asked as he touched down.

“War is coming—between Morgana and the Saxons and Camelot and our allies. I need your advice.”

“Why would you take it?” Kilgarrah asked, an edge to his voice. “Had you taken my advice earlier, this would not have come to pass.”

Merlin felt a surge of irritation. “Which advice?” he asked sullenly.

“To kill the witch!” Kilgarrah roared. “To stop her before her reign of evil even began!”

“That seems to be your answer to everything,” Merlin shot back. “Kill Uther! Kill Morgana! Kill Mordred! But I _didn’t_ kill Mordred—and now the danger is past. The path of doom you foretold has changed! Arthur’s choice changed things—we _can_ change the future!”

“Yes—you could have changed it years ago if you had let Mordred die then. And you could have averted all the evil that Morgana has done if you had only done as I said. The evil she has done is on your head.”

“No, it’s not,” Merlin declared, stepping forward angrily. “It’s on hers. I will not do evil in order to do good—the ends are the same as the means. And if Mordred’s evil could have been combated at two different points in two different ways, one of them good, then perhaps there is a way to stop Morgana without resorting to cold-blooded murder.”

“You almost succeeded at it once.”

“Yes, and look when it got me! Morgana only became what she was because I poisoned her—because I took your advice. You said she would become evil, and she did—because of _you_ , and because of what _I_ did because you advised me to. Are you happy that your prediction came true?”

Kilgarrah flapped his wings. “It is not a _prediction_ , young warlock, it is _fate!_ ”

“Well, fate can go hang.”

“Did you call me here to berate me for my careful advice to you over the years?”

“No.” Merlin took a deep breath. “You have tried to help me, and I thank you for it. And I need your help again. Sooner or later, Morgana will attack Camelot. I need to know how to stop her from blasting all our soldiers back like ninepins, or freezing us into immobility where we stand.”

“I cannot help you,” Kilgarrah answered stiffly.

“I could order you to,” Merlin said darkly.

“No, you could not.” Kilgarrah blinked at him inscrutably. “The only way I can help you is by stopping Morgana on the battlefield myself. But I will not be there. And there is no Dragonlord, not even you, Merlin, who could take me there.”

Merlin frowned up at him. “You mean…”

“Goodbye, young warlock,” Kilgarrah said, bowing his head. “It has been an honor.” Before Merlin could speak, the dragon sprang into the air and flew away—his movements slower and stiffer than Merlin had ever seen before.

With a heavy heart, Merlin turned and headed back toward Camelot.

000

Rodor and Mithian arrived in Camelot with the remains of their army the next day. It was only the beginning of a long train of refugees that were trickling westward as Morgana and Horsa continued their march across Albion. Rodor’s army had been decimated by the Saxons, and although a few more of his troops caught up with them a few days later, they were still a tiny force.

But Camelot’s resources were to be stretched much farther a week later—when Annis arrived.

Her soldiers had been trying to help Rodor’s, and thus were split when Horsa attacked. Unable to regroup, they had instead retreated to Camelot to join forces with their allies. 

“When they entered the Valley of Afon Du, we decided it was time to pull back and regroup at a safer distance,” she said.

Percival, at Gwaine’s side during this meeting of the court, looked confused. “The Valley of Afon Du isn’t far from the Castle of Caerleon,” Gwaine murmured. “It is known for its bandits.”

“You see to know the geography of my country well, Sir Knight.” Annis’s sharp ears had caught this aside. Gwaine colored.

“This is Sir Gwaine of the Round Table,” Arthur said: “one of the bravest of our knights. He hails from Caerleon.”

“Ah.” Annis looked gratified. “I am pleased to know that our kingdom turns out such good knights. Why did you not stay in the land of your birth?”

Everyone was waiting for his answer. Gwaine took a deep breath. “My father fought in the army of Caerleon,” he explained.

“And who was your father?”

“Sir Loth, Lord of Gwalchmei.”

There was an audible intake of breath around the room. All of Gwaine’s friends, and even Arthur, were staring at him in shock. But Annis was in control of her reactions.

“Camelot must be glad of the service of a knight of such illustrious background,” she said politely, and turned back to Arthur and the original subject. Gwaine glanced up at Percival, who was staring at him with his mouth slightly open.

“You’re drawing flies, Perce,” Gwaine whispered dryly. Percival shut his mouth with a snap.


	69. Chapter 69

“Sir Gwaine.” 

Gwaine turned as he was leaving the Hall of the Table and bowed. “Your Majesty,” he said.

“I wonder if you might like to come and meet some of my men,” Queen Annis said with a slight smile.

“I would be honored, my lady,” Gwaine said. Exchanging a surreptitious shrug with Percival, he followed her out of the castle and toward the eastern side of the city, where the army of Caerleon was camped.

“I am aware, Sir Gwaine,” she began calmly as they left the close quarters of the town, “of the injustice that was done to your family.” He stared at her, but she was as unruffled as ever. “May I ask, were you Sir Loth’s eldest son?”

“Er, yes. I have only an older sister.”

Annis nodded. “It may interest you to know that Sir Accolon, who was allowed to rob your family of the lordship of Gwalchmei, is dead.” Gwaine stared at her again. “He died two years ago, and without issue. So there is no heir for Gwalchmei…” She looked over at him, a little slyly. “Except for the true heir, of course—whom I am willing to formally acknowledge.”

Gwaine stopped in his tracks, and Annis stopped also, facing him squarely. “My lady,” he began with difficulty, “I thank you for your interest in myself and for your justice toward me, but… I have no interest in taking up lordship of Gwalchmei.”

Annis nodded her understanding. “I see.” She began walking again, and Gwaine hurried to catch up with her. “It is Caerleon’s loss. But I will give you time to consider further.”

“My answer will not change, my lady.”

“We shall see. Ah, Cadwaladr. May I introduce Sir Gwaine, of Camelot. His family is from Caerleon, so I have brought him to see your troops. Sir Gwaine, my Captain, Sir Cadwaladr.”

They bowed to one another. “I am honored to meet you, Sir Gwaine. The Knights of the Round Table have acquired a great reputation for honor and bravery across Albion. Please, come this way.”

Gwaine, a little stunned by such unaccustomed honor from someone he had never met before, followed Cadwaladr around Caerleon’s encampment, beginning to ask some questions about the army’s organization.

“Sir.” A man a few years older than Gwaine walked over. “The last stragglers from the tenth company have arrived.”

“Excellent. Sir Gwaine, this is my adjutant, Sir Ifor of Lleuddiniawn. I must confer with the tenth company, but I will leave you in Sir Ifor’s capable hands.” Cadwaladr strode away, not noticing the expressions on the two men’s faces.

“Ifor?” Gwaine stared at him. “Florence’s husband?”

“Gwaine!” Ifor startled him by throwing his arms around him and giving him a bear hug. “If it’s not my brother-in-law, as I live and breathe! We had heard a tale of the gallant Sir Gwaine of Camelot—Florie was certain it was you.”

Gwaine couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face. “Oh, really? I never would have thought she would believe the epithet _gallant_ would apply to _me_.”

“Now, what were her words?” Ifor’s eyes twinkled. “‘A good heart and bravery to the point of idiocy—that is most certainly my brother.’”

Gwaine laughed, though the line about a good heart both surprised and touched him. But old habits died hard. “Speaking of bravery to the point of idiocy— _you_ married Florie!”

Luckily, Ifor didn’t seem at all offended; he simply laughed along. “So I did. How could I help it? She has the Gwalchmei temper, it’s true, but the Gwalchmei tenderheartedness to go with it. But why am I keeping you standing here? Come to my tent: I’ll have one of the men dig us up something good from the provision wagons.”

000

Gwaine was a bit tipsy when Arthur cornered him a few hours later. 

“And where have you been, Gwaine? Or should I say Lord of Gwalchmei?”

“Nope.” Gwaine waggled his finger at him. “I told her no.”

“Told who no?”

“Shouldn’t that be ‘whom’?” Gwaine slurred.

“Told _whom_ no, then?” Arthur asked in exasperation.

“Queen Annis. Told her I wouldn’t be Lord of Gwalchmei. She asked me. But I said, ‘No. I’m a Knight of Camelot!’”

Arthur snorted. “Very loyal you are, too. Couldn’t even tell me you were a noble!”

Gwaine frowned at him. “You didn’t ask.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Gwaine! Why didn’t you just _tell_ me?” He paused for a moment. “Couldn’t you trust me with the truth?”

Gwaine clapped his hand on Arthur’s shoulder—though perhaps more for balance than as a show of camaraderie. “Yeah, I could trust you. But… I wanted to earn my titles on my own. I wanted to be a knight because I proved to you that I was worthy of it—not because of my family.”

After a moment, Arthur nodded. “Well, if you won’t take Gwalchmei,” he said in a milder tone, “I’ll bestow a different property on you.”

“No, no. I’ve got Caer Ligualid already, remember? And the rents are doing quite well, thank you—the Dowager Lady Manon says there will be enough for good dowries for her daughters, and then some. So I’m set.”

“No, really, Gwaine!”

“No, really.” Gwaine suddenly looked much more sober. “I don’t care about titles. The only one I want is ‘loyal friend.’”

Arthur smiled wryly and slapped his back. “That one you have already. Now go stick your head under the pump before Anwen sees you like this.”

Gwaine laughed and strolled away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anybody wants to know more about Gwaine’s relationship to Sir Accolon or Caer Ligualid, see my fic “Sovereignty”.


	70. Chapter 70

News was continually coming to Camelot of Morgana’s relentless march westward. There was a nerve-wracking week in which Rodor, Arthur and Annis prepared for battle as the Saxons neared. The next thing they heard was that Morgana had turned northward, attacking Essetir. Outnumbered, Gaheris had quick beat a strategic retreat to Camelot.

“She seems to be keeping Camelot for last,” Arthur said grimly.

“At least she has given us a chance to unite against her,” Gaheris observed.

“Or perhaps she realizes the bind we have put ourselves in,” Annis countered. “With three armies to support, Camelot’s supplies are growing thin. Morgana needs only to wait until our men are weakened, and then she may strike.”

“Or wait until we fight amongst ourselves,” Gaheris said dryly.

Merlin almost flinched at the look Annis gave him. Gaheris returned only a raised eyebrow.

“What’s going on between them?” Merlin whispered to Gaius.

“There is a long history of border wars between Caerleon and Essetir,” Gaius explained in an undertone. “Only their mutual alliance with Camelot could have brought those two into the same room together.”

That much was clear. “Our tents are sinking into the mud on the western side of Camelot,” one of Gaheris’s captains complained. “The eastern side appears far drier.”

“I am afraid our army occupies all the available space on the eastern side,” Cadwaladr replied stiffly, clearly resisting the urge the say, ‘We were here first!’ “Perhaps some other accommodation might be made for you—perhaps to the south?”

“ _Our_ men moved from the west side to the south side to accommodate Essetir,” Rodor growled. “There is far less space on the south than on the west.”

“I will have someone bring some sawdust and gravel to the western side to do something about the mud,” Guinevere said pacifically. 

The situation only grew worse as the week dragged on. Annis and Caerleon would barely talk to one another, and in the tense atmosphere, even Rodor was acting quarrelsome. Only Arthur and Guinevere managed to keep their cool.

“It is stress,” Gaius said as he and Merlin walked down the stairs toward the hall one evening. “Everyone is under a great deal of pressure to appear strong—for their armies, and for Morgana. Unfortunately, too often an attempt to appear strong ends in strong-arming others.”

“I just wish they’d realize our strength lies in our alliance…” Merlin trailed off as they reached the main doors.

“What is it?” Gaius peered around him. Outside in the courtyard was another small military force, led by a youngish man who looked vaguely familiar. Behind him were two other men Gaius knew only too well: Bergam and Cranog.

“Mora,” he muttered. “That’s Bergam and Cranog’s older brother Cei, now King of Mora.” He glanced over at Merlin. The young man’s face was white and strained, but he looked more angry than fearful.

“Gaius!” Arthur was waving him over. Gaius approached, with Merlin following in his wake. “Camelot’s court physician you know, of course,” he said, and Gaius bowed.

“Of course.” Cei took Gaius’s hand with a warm smile. “How could I forget him taking a crossbow bolt out of my leg?”

Arthur laughed. “You _would_ bring that up. It was an accident!”

“ _I_ didn’t say whose fault it was,” Cei said with a grin.

“And this is my… dear friend and advisor, Merlin,” Arthur added, sobering a little. Merlin bowed, not unaware of the look Arthur was giving Bergam and Cranog. “I believe you two have met him before.” The two younger princes had the grace to look chagrined. Cei cast them a suspicious glance.

“It is almost time for dinner, and I am sure your Majesty will want to refresh yourself,” Guinevere said before questions could be asked. “The servants will show you to your quarters.”

000

“I don’t like it,” Merlin said.

“I’m sorry, Merlin—but it can’t be helped. They had to come,” Arthur answered, coming into his room. Gwen and Merlin looked up at him in confusion from their seats at the table.

“What? Who?”

“Bergam and Cranog.” Arthur stopped. “Isn’t that who you were talking about?”

“Oh. No.” Merlin blinked. In all honesty, he had barely thought of the brothers since they had arrived. The two of them had avoided him assiduously at dinner, so it was easily done.

“Morgana,” Gwen clarified. “We don’t like how she has left us alone for so long.”

“She has little enough to fear from us,” Arthur pointed out. “Her army is larger than our combined.”

“But they’re an army of mercenaries, and ours are of loyal men,” Gwen responded. “Surely our men will fight harder?”

“But our forces are losing their confidence,” Merlin answered. “They know we’re outnumbered, and our allies have just come fresh from defeat at the hands of Horsa. His confidence grows as ours wanes.”

“And as Gaheris and Annis pointed out, Morgana only needs to wait until we either run out of supplies or quarrel amongst ourselves,” Arthur said. “And at least one of those is likely to happen soon,” he added darkly. 

Merlin shook his head. “We need to find some way to get the upper hand. To begin with, I want to make sure that Morgana cannot freeze or knock down whole swaths of our men when we charge.”

“I thought you said you and Gaius couldn’t find a counterspell for either of those?” Arthur said.

“Not one strong enough to protect large numbers of people,” Merlin agreed. “But perhaps someone else could help us.”

“The dragon?” Gwen asked.

Merlin pressed his lips together, taking a deep breath before he answered. “No. Someone else.” He looked up at Arthur. “Can I take tomorrow off?”

“Whatever you need.” Arthur peered at him. “This person you’re going to see. Is he… safe?”

Merlin smiled. “Safe as can be.”


	71. Chapter 71

Merlin took a deep breath of the clear air about him. Here, on the shore of the Lake of Avalon, all was peaceful and serene. The water lapped the shore, the birds sang, the leaves rustled in the wind. It was good to be out of Camelot, away from the Kings’ endless spats, the dull roar of five armies encamped around the town.

Merlin sat down on the shore and wrapped his arms around his knees. He slowed his breathing and gazed out at the insects buzzing above the lake, the light reflecting on the ripples in the water. Concentrating, he slowed the insects, slowed the ripples, until everything moved like a stately dance. _Freya_ , he called.

He blinked once, and there she was, approaching him over the water between the dancing insects, clothed in purple silk. The sun was behind her, and even her dark hair glowed with a golden halo of light. _Merlin_ , she answered, smiling. _It is good to see you._

_And you,_ he responded, climbing to his feet with a smile. _You look amazing._

_You look older._ She laughed, a sound like gurgling water. _To what do I owe the pleasure?_

_Morgana again_ , Merlin answered grimly. _We are going into battle against her, and I don’t think we can win._

_You are stronger than her._

_But not stronger than her entire army._ Merlin shook his head. _She could throw our men backward with a flash of her eyes, or freeze them where they stand. And I have no way to protect them._

_Then let me._ She extended her hand to him, and in it was a crystal phial, full of water that sparkled in the sunlight. _Anoint their armor with this, and my power will protect them.  
_  
Merlin walked forward and took the phial. _Thank you, Freya,_ he said, looking up at her. She smiled at him and he dropped his gaze. _I—I don’t know how to say this…_

_You don’t need to._ He looked up to see her smiling down at him. For a moment she reminded him of his mother. _I am happy now, Merlin. And you should be happy, too—with someone else._ She caressed his cheek with an amused smile as he stared at her in surprise. _A water spirit would make a poor wife._

_But a wonderful friend,_ he answered with a smile of his own. _Thank you._ He reached up his hand to touch her—

—and she was gone. The insects buzzed happily as they had before, and Merlin was standing up to his knees in cold water—but there was a crystal phial in his hand. Smiling down at it, he waded out of the water and jogged off in the direction of Camelot.

000

It took Merlin two full days to go through all the armies around Camelot, company by company, and anoint the shoulders of each man’s hauberk with a drop of water from the lake. Despite the great number of men, the phial never seemed to empty. The Kings had been convinced of the water’s potency when Arthur asked Mordred to throw an anointed Sir Gwaine. Gwaine squinted his eyes shut in preparation as Mordred raised his hand. His eyes flashed—but nothing happened.

Gwaine opened one cautious eye. “Did you do it?” he asked Mordred.

Mordred grinned. “Yes. You can relax now.”

“I didn’t feel a thing!” Gwaine told Arthur excitedly.

Arthur smiled. “I don’t know who that friend of yours is,” he said quietly, putting his arm around Merlin’s shoulder as the Kings spoke with Mordred and Gwaine, “but thank him for me.”

Merlin smiled. “Already done.”

000

“What news from Camelot?”

“My lady.” The spy bowed, letting the flap of Morgana’s tent fall closed behind him. “The Kings of Albion continue encamped around the town. There is no longer much trade with the outside, and Camelot grows wary of strangers, so I cannot come as close as I did before. But rumors have wings to fly over castle walls. It is said that all the soldiers that gather at Camelot carry the sign of a divine power on their shoulders.”

Morgana raised one eyebrow. “Can you be more specific.”

The man shrugged. “Unfortunately not, my lady. There are many rumors, but there seems to be little agreement. It is said that the Kings have found some way to protect their men against all magic, and that Arthur’s servants have given this protective spell to each soldier in the army.”

Morgana frowned. “Surely there is no spell in the world that could protect one against all magic,” she said.

“Even if the spell comes from Emrys?”

Morgana was out of her chair and had a knife at the man’s throat before he could even react. She gripped his hair with her other hand, pressing the blade against his skin. “You will never mention that name in my hearing again,” she hissed, “unless you are coming to tell me of his imminent death.”

The man licked his dry lips. “Yes, my lady,” he croaked.

She let go. “Have you any more news, or is it all idle rumor?”

He swallowed, rubbing at his throat as if he could still feel her blade. “There is one other thing,” he admitted nervously. “And this has better authority. Camelot is running low on supplies, and the Kings have begun to argue amongst themselves about it—Annis claims that Gaheris has been given a greater share of the supplies, and Gaheris charges Annis with the same. Arthur is having great trouble keeping the peace.”

Morgana smiled. “Just as we thought. You may go.”

The man bowed again and beat a hasty retreat.

“Now if only there were some sign of that dragon.”

Morgana jumped and spun around. “How long have you been there?” she growled.

“Long enough to hear the good news—and the bad,” Elïavrés answered, examining his nails. “And is there any sign of the dragon?”

“Her _name_ is Aithusa,” Morgana said impatiently. She dropped her head and picked at her dress. “And no. No one has seen her in weeks.”

“I thought you said she was devoted to you.”

“She _is!_ ” Morgana answered angrily, her head snapping up. “I don’t know why she would disappear like this.”

“Almost as if she were summoned by a dragonlord,” Elïavrés suggested, walking over to the door of the tent.

“Impossible. The last dragonlord died while I still lived in Camelot—and as far as is known, he had no children.”

“As far as is known,” the Gaul repeated, and was gone. Morgana frowned after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Annales Cambriae mentions “The Battle of Badon, in which Arthur carried the Cross of our Lord Jesus Christ for three days and three nights upon his shoulders [or shield] and the Britons were the victors.” Since Christianity doesn’t really make an appearance in the series, I altered the details a little.


	72. Chapter 72

“Arthur! Time to get up!” Merlin threw the shutters open, and Arthur groaned. 

“Merlin, it’s barely dawn!”

Merlin stripped the blankets off the bed. “And you’ve got squabbling kings for guests, and we need to get them into a strategy meeting before they all decide simultaneously that there’s no working together.” He grabbed Arthur by the ankle and pulled him feet-first out of bed. “Sifa tells me Gwen’s already up and breakfasting with your guests. Let’s go.”

Arthur grunted and grumbled and called Merlin names, but he was dressed and fully conscious in a quarter of an hour. 

“Arthur!” Gwen knocked at his door. “We’re all heading into the Council Chamber. Are you almost ready?”

He opened the door. “ _Completely_ ready,” he answered, offering her his arm. “Merlin?” he called over his shoulder.

Gwen glanced back. “Merlin?” she said in concern. Arthur turned: Merlin had sunk into a chair and dropped his face into his hands. Gwen hurried over and knelt beside him. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Merlin raised his face: it was white and drawn, and his hands were shaking. “Kilgarrah,” he managed. 

“The dragon?” Arthur said. “What about him? Is he here?”

“He’s gone.” Merlin swallowed. “He’s dead.”

“What? How do you know?”

Merlin gestured toward his head. “There’s—there’s a silence. He’s gone.”

Arthur poured out a cup of wine and handed it to him. Merlin stared at it blankly. “Drink it,” Arthur said gently but firmly.

Merlin complied, and in a minute he sat up straighter and rubbed his hands over his face. “I’m sorry—it was just… a shock. I knew the end was coming, but… not this soon.”

“So there really won’t be a dragon on our side in the battle,” Arthur said in a low voice, and Merlin shook his head.

“Maybe we don’t need one,” Gwen said slowly, and they both turned to look at her. She was staring into space, frowning in thought. “Maybe…” She was silent for awhile. Then she looked up and smiled. “I’ve got a plan,” she said excitedly. “But it will take our best archer and our fastest riders.”

“Whatever you need.”

Gwen climbed quickly to her feet. “Let’s go talk to the Kings.”

000

“What’s going on in there?” Faleiry whispered as she passed another maid in the corridor.

Muffled shouting could be heard from the Council chamber. “I can’t hear very clearly,” Addfwyn said as she assiduously dusted the lampstand by the door. She had been at it for awhile; it was beginning to look like the cleanest lampstand in the castle. “Something about the distribution of the supplies.”

Just then, the door banged open, making both maids jump, and Gaheris strode out.

“But you _can’t_ leave now,” Arthur pleaded, following him. “Not when we’ve finally got a chance of defeating the Saxons! None of us can do this separately—they’ll overrun us all!”

“I would rather take my chances against the Saxons than let my men starve here by the side of their so-called allies,” Gaheris replied with dignity, and stalked away. Faleiry and Addfwyn both backed up and curtsied as he passed. A moment later, Annis strode out of the chamber. “Your Majesty,” she said in a dignified voice, and walked away, leaving a discouraged-looking Arthur behind in the doorway.

Faleiry and Addfwyn exchanged looked and sped away silently.

000

“It’s true, my lady,” the spy said, smiling. “Gaheris left Camelot yesterday evening, and Annis heads back to Caerleon tonight.”

“So Camelot stands alone,” Morgana said, smiling. 

“Not entirely,” he admitted. “The young King Cei of Mora stands with Arthur, as does Rodor of Nemeth, and old Lord Godwyn of Gawant, who arrived just as everyone else was leaving. But their three armies are quite small—indeed, if it weren’t for their alliance with Camelot, none of them would be a threat whatsoever. Without Essetir and Caerleon, their alliance is lost.”

“And once they are defeated, Essetir and Nemeth will be sitting ducks,” Morgana finished with satisfaction. “Thank you; you may go.” She tossed the spy a purse of gold, and with a smile and a bow, he withdrew from her tent.

“I admit, I am still worried,” Morgana said, turning to Elïavrés. “Even with a small army, Emrys” (she spat the name) “may pose a greater threat than we think.” Elïavrés snorted, and Morgana glared at him. “Despite all my attempts, I have neither found Emrys nor succeeded in killing him,” she reminded him.

“Nor has he succeeded in killing you—and _he knows_ who _you_ are.” Elïavrés shook his head with a smirk. “He may have foiled your plans, but you are his equal in power. And besides,” he added, throwing himself casually into a chair, “now you have _me_. He might have beaten you one-on-one, but he cannot defeat _both_ of us.” He smirked down at his nails.

“What does that smile mean?” Morgana asked as she took her own seat, reassured by his manner.

He looked up with a smile that would have chilled the spine of anyone who wasn’t already his ally. “Just a little plan for poetic justice,” he answered lightly. “As Emrys tried to kill you by possessing that physician’s apprentice, I think I shall possess her myself and force _her_ to kill _him_. If Emrys’s possession of her was against her will, she will relish her revenge, and she may become a loyal and useful weapon. And if she is loyal to him already, well…” He gave a soft chuckle. Morgana raised one eyebrow, and he shrugged. “Life’s not worth living if you don’t take pleasure in your job,” he said lightly.

000

“It seems so strange to see you in that uniform,” Anna said, smiling to try to hide the tears in her eyes. She ducked her head and smoothed the dark blue cloth of Gwaine’s sleeve. “It was good of Cadwaladr to lend you one.” Gwaine caught her hand and she looked up at him. He gave her a tight smile. “You’re sure this is what you want to do?” she asked, wishing he would say no.

He took a deep breath. “Yes,” he answered quietly. “I’m needed. Do you think I shouldn’t?” 

She shook her head. “I only _wish_ you weren’t,” she said, trying to smile again, but her voice broke. He pulled her into a hug and she clung to him.

“Duty, Annie,” he said when she had quieted. “Duty first. That’s what you told me.”

“I thought you’d be performing that duty standing by Arthur’s side,” she said thickly.

He reached up and tilted her chin up. “I know. But remember: we’re both going to make it. I promise.” She nodded, and he bent his head and kissed her.

Cadwaladr’s horn blew in the courtyard, and he stepped back. “I have to go.”

“Be careful,” she pleaded. 

“You too.” He walked over to the door and paused. Anna gulped. He turned, ran back, kissed her once more, and strode out the door to join Annis in the courtyard. Anna wiped futilely at her eyes and ran off toward the surgery.


	73. Chapter 73

It was a very serious group that gathered at the Round Table the next morning. Cei, Godwyn, Rodor and their captains were all gathered around the table along with Arthur’s knights and advisors. Even so, the room seemed empty without Essetir and Caerleon.

Arthur stood up, and the murmuring fell into silence. “Do not be discouraged, my friends,” he said calmly. “I know that we all feel the loss of our allies.” Several of them tried not to look at the empty chairs with plaques bearing the names Gwaine and Elyan. It had been noised about Camelot that Gwaine had defected to Caerleon to defend his ancestral home. Others argued that he had left for the same reason it was believed Elyan had gone with Gaheris: to persuade Camelot’s erstwhile allies to return. But our strength does not lie in force of arms. Nor does it lie in strategy, nor even magic. Our strength lies in our friendship, and in the righteousness of our cause. Our strength lies in our goodness and our love—for one another, and for our peoples.

“I am sure by now you have heard rumor of what we were told by the messengers that arrived in the night: the Saxons, led by Morgana and Horsa, have turned back at the western coast and are marching southeast, toward Camelot. I and my brother Kings have met, and we have agreed that we will take this chance to choose our own ground for the battle. We will stand upon the high ground at Badon Hill, and defy Morgana on her road to Camelot. So strengthen your hearts and make preparation for war: we meet the Saxons in battle at Badon Hill—tomorrow.”

000

The sun was beginning to set over the trees that evening as a solitary figure rode onto the field of Badon Hill. The hill, high and broad, stood to the northeast. The lower parts of its slope on either side melted into thick lines of forest that curved around like a pair of arms, leaving a large open field in the middle of its embrace, facing the hill. The figure, an old man, dismounted from his horse and slowly began to pace along one of these rows of trees, his hand extended toward the grass. He chanted in a low voice, his long white beard waving gently in the breeze. The grasses that he passed made a quiet crackling sound, but no change could be seen.

The old man made a semi-circle around the field, from one forested slope of Badon Hill around to the other. Then he walked quickly toward the middle of the field, and made one more pass, from the foot of the hill, front and center, straight to a small cottage that stood opposite it, almost equidistant between the arms of the forest.

As he finished this strange ritual, four more riders in dark cloaks could be seen riding toward the abandoned cottage. Like most of those in the path of Morgana and Horsa’s army, the inhabitants had fled, leaving their little cottage and its attached stable, its little farmyard almost entirely hidden by trees. 

The four cloaked riders nodded in acknowledgement of the old man, and rode into the farmyard, stabling their horses. The man raised both hands toward the cottage, chanting more loudly now. Had there been any human figure in that place besides the five of them, he would have witnessed a strange phenomenon. As the old man chanted, the witness’s eyes would slowly have slid from the cottage. It would have registered vaguely in his consciousness; he would have instinctively avoided it if it were in his path. Yet his observation of the cottage would have faded from his mind, so that if he had examined the landscape for an hour he would nevertheless have omitted it from the report, and if he had painted the scene, the cottage would have been represented by a patch of grass no different than the rest of the field.

His task finished, the old man remounted his horse and rode away as Badon Hill disappeared into the dusk as the cottage had disappeared from the minds of men.

000

The morning sun shone down upon a scene that in other circumstances would have been glorious. The army of Camelot stood upon the advantageous high ground that would afford their archers a greater range as they fired down on the Saxons. These archers were spread across the front of the hill. In the center, just behind them, Arthur himself sat on horseback, his armor shining in the sunlight and his scarlet cloak waving gently behind him in the breeze. Flanking him on his right were the small forces of Gawant and Mora, and on his left was the army of Nemeth. From the field below they looked impressive, spread out all across the broad top of Badon Hill. But from Arthur’s position it could be seen that the armies behind the archers were not large: Camelot’s men formed a broad column at the center, with smaller columns of their allies on either side.

At the front of each of these columns were the Kings and their captains, as well as the mounted knights. All the sorcerers they had managed to recruit were also at the front, the most skilled of them assigned to specific positions: Merlin with Arthur, Mordred with Godwyn and Cei, and Rhoslynn with Rodor.

Behind the knights and sorcerers were the foot soldiers, and at the back of the hill, where they were at the least risk in the battle, were the supply wagons and the healers, Anwen among them. Arthur’s Royal Council, including Gaius, had been left to care for Camelot, along with Sifa and Tirion.

A distant sound could be heard, and the army quieted, listening for Morgana’s approach. “They’re coming,” Merlin murmured. 

“Signals,” Arthur ordered, and Percival and Leon, on his right and left, each waved a flag to signal to the rest of the combined forces.

Soon they could all see the Saxons approaching in the distance from the south-southwest, the entwined scarlet serpents on their black shields flashing in the sunlight. Like a hoard of locusts, the army marched forward and arranged itself out of bowshot, filling the space between the arms of the trees. At the front rode Morgana, Horsa, and Elïavrés, who instinctively positioned themselves to the side of the cottage-that-wasn’t-there.

Morgana drew her sword. “FOR THE THRONE OF CAMELOT!” she cried in a voice that reached even to the top of the hill.

Arthur drew Excalibur. “FOR THE LOVE OF ALBION!” he replied, and with a roar, the Saxons charged the hill.


	74. Chapter 74

Gwen, sitting on the roof of the cottage, saw Morgana’s army streaming past their hiding place on either side. “READY?” she shouted down.

“READY!” Mithian hollered back. She and Elena sat astride their horses in the cottage’s small farmyard, lit torches in their free hands.

Gwen looked back up at the hill, squinting in the morning light. From her vantage point she couldn’t see when the enemy had finally crossed the invisible line that had been traced out the night before. Only from the hill could one see the lay of the land. At last she saw the signal: Percival waving the crimson standard of Camelot back and forth. “NOW!” she shouted.

Mithian and Elena urged their mounts forward, bursting out of the farmyard and into a gallop. Each one leaned far out to the side, letting her long torch skim the grass that Merlin had magically dried the night before. It caught light instantly, and as the two riders traced their path in opposite directions toward the trees, they created a wall of flame that cut off the Saxons’ retreat.

At the same time, Guinevere was handing flaming arrows one at a time to Sir Raynelle who, standing precariously on the cottage roof with her, fired them at the long line of dried grass that bisected the field. Another archer, standing at the forefront of the army of Albion on the top of the hill, did the same from the other end. 

Morgana, in the vanguard of her army, heard a shout. Arthur and his allies were raining arrows down on them as they came within bowshot, but the shout was from behind her. She halted her horse and turned in her saddle to see a fire spreading around them. “ARCHERS! STOP THEM!” she shouted, and some halted in their charge to take aim, but it was too late: the riders with torches had reached the safety of the trees. With walls of forest on either side and fire behind them, there was nowhere for her army to go but forward. Flames shot up on her right and Morgana’s horse shied. She steadied it and looked up to see a wall of fire separating her and Horsa, with half of the army on one side, from Elïavrés and the other half of the army on the other.

“You’ve finally learned some strategy, Brother,” she muttered grimly. But it didn’t matter: their force would still crush the small army Camelot had managed to gather.

“TO ME!” Horsa was bellowing to his troops, and his trumpeter blew the charge once more. The distracted army pulled itself back into formation through the arrows that were still raining around them. They committed once more to the charge and reached the foot of the hill.

A trumpet blast blew from the hill—from _behind_ it. Arthur and his troops split into two parts and charged simultaneously down the hill… and were followed by two huge phalanxes that charged from their hiding places up and over the brow of the hill and down upon the Saxons, the slate grey of Essetir on one side and the dark blue of Caerleon on the other. Arthur’s allies had not abandoned him after all, and the Saxons were outnumbered.

They were clearly in trouble, but there was no time for qualms; Arthur was almost upon them. Morgana threw her arm out to topple his front line like toy soldiers…

…and nothing happened.

“MORGANA! TAKE THEM!” Horsa was shouting. Morgana threw her arm forward again. “ _ÁHNÍGEAÞ!_ ” she screamed. But they kept coming. Her magic was useless. In the rush of terror that followed she only had time to draw her sword before one of Arthur’s knights, at the front of the line, was upon her.

000

“YES!” Gwen threw her fist in the air as the Saxons’ charge was halted and the two armies clashed. It was just as she’d planned: the dragon’s breath without the dragon. Albion’s two best riders and best archer had prevailed.

“Gwen!” Raynelle grabbed her sleeve. “We have to go,” she said urgently. Gwen looked down: the thatched roof had caught alight from the bucket of flaming arrows they had brought up with them. They hurried over to the corner of the roof and climbed into the tree that grew just beside the cottage. “Hurry!” Raynelle urged her as the flames leapt higher. They clambered down the tree and ran to the small stable as the entire roof of the cottage burst into flames. “Come on, Llamrei!” Gwen said as she and Raynelle led their already-saddled horses out of the stable. “Time to go.”

000

Elïavrés, left alone to lead the Saxon charge on the southern half of the field, had quickly figured out exactly what Morgana had: that neither the throwing spell nor the freezing spell had any power. The Saxons had been thrown into a panic by the sudden appearance of Caerleon thundering down upon them, supported by Camelot and Nemeth.

“FORM THE LINE, YOU DOGS!” Elïavrés bellowed, “OR I’LL GUT YOU LIKE FISH!”

The Saxons, who had seen what the Gaul was capable of, quickly reformed the line and met the charge. Like Morgana, Elïavrés had always prided himself on his ability to defend himself with either magic or steel: today he was grateful for his skill the latter. The Saxons, startled by the fire on two sides, disheartened by the suddenly considerably larger size of the enemy army, and not about to gain any encouragement from a spectacular use of magic on Elïavrés’s part, were no match for the united army of Albion. But the Gaul had not despaired yet—not by any means. If he could not perform magic himself, he could still direct his power through someone else: the healer’s apprentice.

000

“ANNA!” 

Anna looked up from her patient to see someone waving to her frantically farther down the hill. “Do you have this?” she asked her assistant, who nodded. Anna ran down to the soldier who had hailed her. At his feet lay Annis’s captain, Cadwaladr. A Saxon arrow protruded from his chest, and blood was frothing up around it. Cadwaladr’s lips were blue, and he struggled for breath.

Anna pressed a cloth over the wound, but looked up and shook her head at his comrade. The soldier pressed his lips together. “How long?”

“Not long.”

The soldier pressed his hand over the cloth. “I’ll stay with him,” he said grimly, and Anna nodded, climbing to her feet and surveying the battlefield, looking for someone who needed her help. A great number of dead littered the field, though most of them were Saxon. The remainder of both forces were scattered across the field in pockets of fighting. The Saxon line had been broken.

A familiar face caught her eye: Gwaine, only a short distance away, was fighting off two opponents at once. But he was only using one arm: his left he held close to his chest. With the help of one of Caerleon’s soldiers, Gwaine defeated his enemies and stepped back, winded.

Anna’s feet hurried her toward him almost without her realizing it. “Gwaine!” she shouted.

He turned toward her, and she saw his expression change from recognition to dismay in a moment. “ANNA!” he shouted.

A hand grabbed the back of her neck, stopping her in her tracks and nearly knocking her backwards. She felt her knees weaken, and tried to kick backward at her captor, but she felt as if she were moving through water, as if there were weights attached to her limbs.

“I see not _all_ magic is impossible on this field,” Elïavrés murmured in her ear.

“ANNA!” Gwaine ran forward, but the Gaul threw out his other hand, and the ground opened under Gwaine’s feet. He fell forward on his hands, crying out as his injured arm took half of his weight.

“If the great Emrys can force you to perform his magic,” Elïavrés declared triumphantly, “then so can I. And I will begin by using you to kill your sweetheart.”

Gwaine watched helplessly as the Gaul’s eyes glowed golden. But Anna didn’t look frightened. She was determined—angry. She threw her arms out as her eyes flashed golden, and Gwaine saw Elïavrés’s expression change from one of gleeful triumph to surprise… and then terror. Flames shot out of his clothing, and his very flesh glowed like an ember. Elïavrés screamed in agony as he burst into flame. His eyes turned red, his skin blackened and charred, and in a moment he collapsed to the ground, a pile of dust.

Without looking back at the remains of her foe, Anna walked calmly forward and offered Gwaine a hand, pulling him to his feet by his good arm. 

Gwaine found himself in an unaccustomed state: speechlessness. “ _How…_ ” he managed.

“He didn’t know how it works,” Anna explained calmly. “It may be his power he’s trying to exert through me—but it’s under my control.” She smiled up at him, grimly triumphant. “I told you—I only know two kinds of magic. I can heal people, or I can set things on fire.”


	75. Chapter 75

Merlin’s heart was in his throat as Arthur called the charge and urged his horse forward. Merlin kicked his own horse’s flanks and galloped down beside him along the right side of the column of fire that had separated Morgana from the rest of her troops. He saw her throw her arm forward and try to blast them into the air, as she had done so many times before, and nearly flinched. But nothing happened, and with a grim smile, he saw her face turn white.

Arthur continued to ride straight down on her—but a large number of Horsa’s Saxons had passed her in the charge and were in the way. Arthur raised his sword—

—and five Saxons were thrown backward through the air like rag dolls. Arthur was so startled that he almost checked his horse mid-charge. But out of the corner of his eye he saw Merlin, his face set and his eyes glowing golden. Merlin wasn’t even bothering to raise his arm—he just _looked_ and the men fell like ninepins.

Arthur grinned and turned to attack the men on his right as Merlin blasted away the men before them. They cut a swath down the side of Badon Hill.

Someone shouted something in Saxon, and a moment later, Arthur’s horse screamed in pain and fell with an arrow in its flank. “ARTHUR!” Merlin shouted, wheeling his horse around. There were similar shouts from Arthur’s men, but in a moment Arthur appeared on his feet again, apparently unhurt by his fall. Camelot’s forces gave a cheer.

Merlin dismounted and handed off his horse to one of Essetir’s knights, whose own horse had been killed by the archers. He ran to join Arthur and they continued the fight on foot, Arthur swinging his sword and Merlin throwing men backward at every step. From the perfect choreography of their movements, you would have thought they’d been fighting side-by-side like this for years.

The Saxons gave a triumphant shout, and they looked to the air. A while form was soaring high over the battlefield.

Morgana’s voice rose above the din. “AITHUSA!” she called. The white dragon dove toward her, and the troops of Camelot and Essetir cringed in fear.

“ _O DRAKON!_ ” Merlin shouted, though he knew it was useless. Aithusa didn’t know how to speak, so he couldn’t have complete control over her: the best he could do would be to scare her off. “ _E MALE SO FTENGOMETTA TESD’HUP’ANAKES!_ ” 

Aithusa stopped mid-dive and hovered in place, flapping her great wings. Merlin stared at her—had she understood him?

There was only one way to find out. “ _O DRAKON, FTHENGOMAI AU SE KALON; SU KATERKHEO DEURO!_ ” he commanded. Aithusa turned, and swooping over the battlefield, she released a great fireball on the Saxon troops. The Saxons’ shouts of triumph turned into screams. Merlin gave a laugh of pure surprise. Aithusa could speak! But no one but himself had the ability to teach her—no one, that is, except Kilgarrah.

Even in the midst of battle, Merlin felt tears sting his eyes. Despite their last conversation, Kilgarrah had forgiven him after all. He had taught Aithusa to speak, and had sent her to help.

The Saxon archers turned their bows toward Aithusa, and she did a barrel roll, one of the shafts narrowly missing her delicate wings. This battle was no place for her, Merlin realized: she was too young, and she was the last dragon. He had to protect her. And besides--he couldn't ask her to attack Morgana. “ _S’ENTHEND’ APOKHOREIN NUN EPITELLO-O-O!_ ” he commanded. Aithusa shot back up into the sky, out of the range of the arrows, and flew off in the direction of Camelot.

Morgana’s joy at the sight of her beloved pet had turned into dismay when she saw Aithusa suddenly turn on the Saxons. “ARCHERS!” Horsa had shouted.

“NO!” she screamed as they fired at Aithusa, but the dragon had dodged. Morgana heard a powerful shout from Camelot’s line, and the hair on the back of her neck prickled in response: someone was using powerful magic.

She turned and saw Merlin, his eyes glowing golden, shouting up at Aithusa in words Morgana couldn’t understand. And Aithusa clearly obeyed, flying away at what was obviously a command to leave.

Merlin was a Dragonlord. Merlin was Emrys.

Rage filled her heart like a leaping fire. _Merlin!_ The clumsy servant boy who almost didn’t know which end of the sword to hold. Whom she had failed to poison, had failed to recognize, had failed to kill. Merlin, who had refused to tell her of his own magic when she was in distress, who had poisoned her, who had all but killed her sister, and who had now stolen Aithusa’s love from her. He had taken from her everything she had ever loved. And he would pay.

Morgana brandished her sword and charged.

Merlin, looking up from the fight, looked up to find Morgana almost on top of him. He threw his arm out with a shout and Morgana’s saddle cinch broke, throwing her to the ground. She was up again in a moment, her sword swinging. He attempted to throw her backward, and she threw up her hand to shield herself, though she knew it was futile—her magic was no good here.

But to her amazement, it held. She had not been able to throw or freeze her enemies, but her magic still worked. With a diabolical grin, she threw her sword toward Merlin’s heart.

With a sweep of his arms and a flash of his eyes he deflected it. Spell after spell they threw at one another: fire, rock, excruciating pain. But they seemed evenly matched. They had worked their way over to one side of the battlefield, and everyone else had given them a wide berth—those who hadn’t had found themselves showered with flame and ash. Out of the corner of his eye Merlin could see Arthur and Elyan, but they didn’t dare come close enough to interfere.

Finally, distracted by a Camelot arrow that whizzed by her head, Morgana tripped, letting her guard down for a moment. 

“ _Gestedigaþ!_ ” Merlin commanded, and Morgana froze in place.

Lying on the ground, propped up on her elbows, Morgana struggled to move, to undo the spell—anything. But it was no use. She glared up at Merlin as he walked toward her. “Using my own spells against me?” she snarled.

“You’ll notice I left you the ability to speak,” he said dryly.

“What, so you can hear me scream as you kill me?” she spat. “That’s why you’ve pinned me here, isn’t it? To finally have your revenge?”

“No. …to apologize.” She stared up at him in confusion. “I poisoned you,” he admitted. “When the Fires of Idirsholas burned. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But I knew that you were the vessel, the person Morgause was using to put everyone to sleep, to destroy Camelot.” He gave a thin smile. “I was glad to tell Morgause how to cure you. But my betrayal of you set you on the wrong path. My lack of support for you—not telling you about my magic when you needed sympathy and a friend—drove you into Morgause’s arms. I blame myself for that, I am terribly sorry.” She continued to stare at him, confused and furious. “But what you have done since, Morgana—that is on your own head.”

“What _I_ have done?” she answered in indignation. “I only tried to take back what was rightfully mine!”

Now Merlin was angry. “What was yours? You took the _lives_ of good men—of your own father! Look around you,” he said, gesturing to the battlefield. Bodies of Saxons, men of Camelot and of Essetir, littered the ground, their blood mixed with the dirt. “Is _this_ what you wanted?” 

For the first time Morgana’s expression changed to one of fear. It was the very words—the words Emrys had said to her in her dreams, the question she dreaded to be asked. 

“Do you even _know_ what you want?” Merlin pressed on. “Once you wanted magic to be accepted—to be accepted yourself by those you loved. Then you wanted revenge on Uther for the Purge. Then you wanted revenge on Uther for being your father, for loving you but being too weak to give you the crown. Then you wanted the throne itself.” He shook his head. “That’s your tragedy, Morgana—you’ve _never_ known what you wanted. You are a brilliant woman. You could easily have created a plan so foolproof that even I couldn’t have found a way to spoil it. But your plans failed over and over again. And it wasn’t even me that sabotaged them—it was _you_. Every plan had a hole—a chance of failure. Because deep down inside, you didn’t _want_ Arthur to die.”

“I _hated_ him!” she exclaimed breathlessly.

Merlin’s expression was sad. ‘You would not have hated him so much if you didn’t still love him. He was your brother, your last family, your last friend. If he died, you had no one left to love—no one left even to hate. You would have had _nothing_. Because what you really want, Morgana, is to be loved. It is what you have always wanted—from the days you showed off in beautiful gown in the Great Hall and flirted with courtiers, to the days you spent with Morgause—you just wanted them to love you. But now you are so filled with hatred that you cannot love anyone—so they cannot love you back.”

Morgana swallowed hard. “If I am so lost to all goodness,” she said harshly, “why don’t you kill me already?”

“Yes!” Elyan exclaimed. Merlin jumped—he had forgotten Elyan and Arthur were even there. “This is your chance, Arthur! Kill her!”

Arthur looked down at the sword in his hand. When he looked up at Morgana again, there were tears in his eyes.

“I can’t,” he said quietly.

“Then I’ll do it,” Elyan said, stepping forward and raising his sword.

“No!” Arthur grabbed his brother’s arm and held him back. “Leave her be.”

“Arthur,” Elyan said in exasperation, “this is the commander of the enemy army! This is the usurper who wants your throne! The murderer of your people! Responsible for your father’s death! Doesn’t she _deserve_ to die?”

“Yes.” Arthur kept his eyes locked on Morgana’s. “Her crimes deserve death. But I will not kill her. I have to believe there’s some good in her yet. If she couldn’t kill me, if deep down there is still the slightest bit of love in her—I have to believe she can still change.” He thrust his sword into the ground. “Let her up,’ he said to Merlin.

Elyan was incredulous. “Arthur, this is madness! She will kill you the moment she has the use of her powers!”

“I have to believe she won’t,” Arthur said simply. “I have to give her the chance.” He locked eyes with Merlin and silent communication passed between them. Finally Merlin nodded and lowered his hand.


	76. Chapter 76

Morgana climbed slowly to her feet, her expression unreadable. She raised her hand toward Arthur. Elyan raised his sword and tried to step toward her, but Arthur held him back with a vise-like grip, his gaze still not moving from his sister. They stared at one another, Arthur waiting for Morgana to make a move, for her eyes to flash gold, for her to say something—anything.

There was a sudden thump as something heavy hit Merlin on the back of his head: he tumbled to his knees, stunned. There was a clanging of swords, and Merlin, dazed, looked up in time to see Elyan stumble backward from Horsa’s swinging blade. 

Morgana’s general had found them and was ready to finish the battle.

Arthur, bereft of his sword, which was still stuck in the ground where he had relinquished it, had leapt back from Horsa’s initial attack and now faced his foe unarmed. Merlin raised his hand, but an attack of dizziness overcame him and he collapsed sideways, the world spinning around him. He looked up in time to see Arthur on the ground, Horsa standing over him with his sword raised, about to deliver the killing blow.

The world was spinning; Merlin could not muster the concentration to help. Even as everything swung sickeningly around him, he saw a flash of gold in Morgana’s eyes. “NO!” he shouted. 

There was a horrible crunching sound—and Horsa looked down at Excalibur, its hilt sticking out of his chest. His own sword fell senseless from his hand, and he collapsed backward, blood pouring from the wound. He was dead before he struck the ground.

Morgana lowered her hand. “That is the last life I shall ever take,” she said quietly.

They all three stared at her. Elyan was the first to move, climbing to his feet. Morgana stepped forward as if she would pull Arthur up, but then she yanked her hand back and balled it into a fist. Instead, Elyan helped his brother-in-law to his feet, then turned to Merlin.

“Are you alright?” he said, pulling Merlin up and supporting him by the arm. 

Merlin tried to nod, and the world spun again for a moment. He was glad for Elyan’s supporting hand. “I’ve had worse,” he said roughly, with a wry smile. Elyan smiled back.

Arthur looked down at the body of his foe, then back up at his sister. “Thank you,” he said. She nodded.

Arthur glanced around at the battle, which had moved away from them. The Saxons were hard-pressed, many of them trying to flee the field through the thick woods on either side. “What will you do?” he asked, turning back to Morgana. He paused. “Will you come back with us? To Camelot?”

Elyan made a noise of protest in his throat, but said nothing. Merlin imagined Morgana there, in the throne room, having to show obedience to her younger half-brother while the other courtiers looked on at her in hatred. She could never be happy there, reminded of all that she had lost. Morgana slowly shook her head. “I… no,” she said—perhaps seeing the same future Merlin did. “My crimes have been too great,” she continued in a low voice, almost as if she were speaking to herself. “There is no place for me now in your world.” She shook herself and looked up to meet his eye. “I will retire to the Isle of Avalon,” she continued, her voice stronger. “That is the proper place for the last High Priestess. There perhaps I can learn to know myself better.” She paused, looking at his face for a long time, as if she were memorizing it—perhaps she was. She stepped closer. 

“When you are at your last need, Arthur Pendragon—my brother—come to me. Avalon will then pledge—” she swallowed and blinked—“her love.”

Arthur nodded. Morgana bowed her head to him, and turned to give Merlin himself a last, long look. Then she turned and walked slowly toward the forest, away from the battle. The three of them watched her go.

“MORGANA! WAIT!”

She stopped and turned as Mordred rode up. He jumped down from the saddle. “Where are you going?” he asked urgently.

“To Avalon,” she said with a sad smile. “To retreat from the world.”

“Let me go with you,” he said impetuously, glancing between her and Arthur.

She shook her head in surprise. “I am not going for a pleasure trip,” she answered. “I am going there to stay.”

“To change.” He gave her a sad smile. “I know. But let me go with you! It will be hard for you to learn to love again—with no one there to love you back.”

For a moment the shell cracked and merlin saw the old Morgana through it. The tears sprang to her eyes as she put her hand to Mordred’s cheek. They both looked instinctively toward Arthur, who nodded with a tense smile. Mordred smiled at Morgana sunnily, looking like the innocent boy from so many years ago. She smiled a little back and nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered. She turned back to Arthur once more, her expression lighter. “Goodbye, Arthur. We will meet again someday.”

“Goodbye, Morgana.”

She and Mordred turned and left the battlefield, side by side. When they had disappeared under the eaves of the forest, Arthur looked down at Horsa once more, then put his foot down and drew Excalibur from out of his foe’s chest.

“Come on,” he said to Merlin and Elyan. “We have a battle to win.” 

000

Gwen, Raynelle, Mithian and Elena had quite a hard time making their way onto the battlefield after their part was finished. The forest was thick, and while that would not have been much of a problem had it just been them, leading their horses through it had been considerably more difficult.

By the time they had struggled out of the last of the underbrush and found themselves on the field, the outcome of the battle was already clear: the Saxons were routed. Everywhere they looked, they could see the crimson of Camelot, the slate-grey of Essetir. The black of the Saxons was mostly on the bodies that littered the ground in every direction. The other three mounted up and waded straight into battle, but Raynelle looked for the principle leaders: Gaheris she could see a good distance away, his standard nearby—and Bergam and Kay fighting by his side. Morgana and Horsa were nowhere to be seen.

At last she spotted Arthur, fighting not far from the wall of fire down the center of the field. She mounted up and drew her sword, ready to ride to her king. As she watched, Arthur dispatched a Saxon attacker while Merlin, back-to-back with him, threw five men backward through the air. Arthur turned his head to make some laughing comment to Merlin—

—and a Saxon arrow caught him directly in the chest.

“ARTHUR!” Raynelle shouted, spurring her horse into a gallop.

Arthur fell backward, almost knocking Merlin off his feet. Merlin caught him by the shoulders at the last second and lowered him gently to the ground. Then the men around them closed ranks, and Raynelle couldn’t see any more.

When she reached them, Merlin and King Godwyn had pulled the arrow from Arthur’s chest and were trying to stop the bleeding. But the cloth they held to the wound was quickly turning red.

“Glanmor,” Raynelle said, grabbing the arm of a young Camelot foot soldier beside her. “Go get the Queen.” Glanmor, white-faced, nodded and ran.

Merlin looked panicked. “ _Þurhhæle! Ic hæle þina þrowunga_ ,” he said desperately. Nothing seemed to be happening. Arthur’s face was paling by the moment. Merlin lifted his head. “Where’s Anna?” he exclaimed in desperation.

“She’s on the other side of the fire,” someone answered.

Merlin raised his hand toward the flames, barely glancing at them. “ _Acwence þa bælblyse!_ ” he said shortly, and with a stunning blast of wind, the fire blew out. “Fetch her!” he said. One of the knights mounted up and galloped off into the south side of the battlefield.

“Stay with me, Arthur,” Merlin said, leaning over his friend, his face almost as white as the King’s. “Help is coming.”

“It’s alright,” Arthur said quietly, his chest heaving. “We won.” Merlin nodded, his face crumpling. “There will be peace—” he paused, gasping for breath—“peace for Albion.”

“But not for me,” Merlin choked out. “Not without you.”

Arthur reached up and gripped Merlin’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re with me,” he said falteringly, and closed his eyes.

“Arthur!” Merlin gripped his wrist, holding it to his shoulder. “Arthur! Hold on!”

Arthur’s head fell gently to the side.


	77. Chapter 77

Raynelle stood with the others in stunned silence, gazing horrified at the body of their King, and Merlin, cradling Arthur’s head, his shoulders shaking with silent tears.

“Let me through!” someone exclaimed, breaking the spell, and the men moved back automatically as Anna ran over to the mournful tableau.

“It’s too late,” Godwyn said quietly. “He’s gone.”

“There’s still a chance,” Anna said briefly, falling to her knees by Arthur’s side. “Merlin, help me!”

Merlin shook himself, like a sleepwalker awakening, and covered her hands with his own, his blue eyes hard and fiery.

“ _Þurhhæle_ ,” Anna said commandingly, and their eyes lit golden in unison. 

Nothing seemed to happen.

“Merlin, hold back,” Anna said, her eyes still glowing gold. Merlin’s face expression was pinched with concentration. “You’re overwhelming me. …There! Hold it there! _Ic hæle þina þrowunga!_ ”

Their eyes kindled even brighter, like the wood of a campfire suddenly catching alight. Those standing around them could almost see the power flowing from them, the magic encircling Arthur. There was a deep _thrum_ in the air, and they all fell back a step. Anna and Merlin pulled their hands back. The wound didn’t seem to be bleeding. Merlin leaned over Arthur—

—and Arthur choked and began to cough. The men all exclaimed in wonder, some of them beginning laugh with relief, as Merlin pulled Arthur up into a sitting position.

“You—you’re—”

Arthur coughed once more and smiled. “Fit as a fiddle,” he said roughly.

Merlin threw his arms around him and hugged him tightly. Arthur returned the hug while the men around patted them both on the back in congratulations.

“Make way for the Queen!” someone exclaimed, and Arthur looked up as Gwen ran into the circle.

“I’m alright,” he said quickly, and some color came back into her face.

“Thank God,” she said as she and Merlin helped him to his feet. He gave her a long hug as well, then stepped back and seemed to notice the people around him.

“What are you all standing around for?” he asked with a laugh. “Don’t we have a battle to fight?”

“It’s over,” Gaheris said, striding over. “The last of our foes have fled.”

Looking around, they could all see that he was right. With the fiery barrier gone, the few Saxons left alive had taken to their heels in a disordered retreat, the soldiers of Albion in rapid pursuit.

Albion’s kings and the remaining men began to gather around them. Mithian and Rodor rode in from opposite sides of the field and greeted one another joyfully. 

“You’re alright?” Mithian asked, and Rodor smiled.

“Perfectly. Good riding, my dear.” He gave her a hug.

She grinned. “Thank you,” she said, stepping back. Glancing over his shoulder, she saw a familiar face approaching. “LEON!” she exclaimed, and ran over to him.

As naturally as if he had been doing it all his life, Leon caught her up in his arms and kissed her. There was some chuckling from the men, who looked away politely. Leon and Mithian didn’t seem to notice. Finally Leon set her back on her feet, and they smiled tenderly at one another. Rodor cleared his throat and raised one eyebrow.

“Oh.” Leon looked up and blushed scarlet. “Sorry, Your Majesty. I mean—” he looked down at Mithian, who seemed to be laughing silently, and his eyes twinkled. He held her closer and looked back up at Rodor, a little bit defiantly.

Rodor could not longer repress a smile. He clapped Leon on the shoulder. “We’ll talk,” he promised.

“Well, since we’re on the subject,” Gwaine piped up nearby. Arthur turned toward him questioningly. Gwaine exchanged glances with Anna, who nodded, blushing. “Sire, I request your permission to marry.”

Arthur looked over. “Anna?” he asked formally.

“Yes, Sire?” she looked up, her eyes twinkling.

“Are you sure you want to marry my most graceless knight?”

Gwaine grinned even wider, and Anna smiled at him. “Yes, Sire.”

Arthur shrugged. “On your own head be it.” He took her hand and led her over to Gwaine, placing her hand on his. “I’m sure you will be very happy.”

Gwaine looked smilingly down at her. “So am I.”

000

The group adjourned immediately after to care for the wounded and to organize patrols to scoop up the last of the Saxons as they fled toward the coast. There were astoundingly few casualties among Camelot’s allies, and Anna and Merlin, with the help of the other healers and Arthur’s sorcerers, quickly tended to them. Cranog was the only name of note found among the dead.

“I’m sorry for it,” Merlin said seriously when he heard. “God knows I had no reason to love him, but our feud was long over.”

Gaius met Merlin and Anna at the gates of the palace with tears of relief in his eyes

Despite Kay and Bergam’s loss, the Kings were a merry bunch when they gathered in the Great Hall at Camelot that night. The room was filled with laughter and music—the jokes seemed funnier, the ladies more beautiful, the men more gallant than ever before. The streets of the town were lit brightly with torches and filled with humbler musicians and even merrier dancing. 

All arguments in Albion seemed forgotten, all jealousies erased—and Gaheris danced, most politely, with Annis.


	78. Epilogue

Guinevere came down the stairs into the courtyard, carefully holding up her long skirts. She caught Arthur’s eye and shook her head. He sighed.

“No sign of her,” she said as she came up to him between the hurrying servants and the knights in their scarlet capes. “None of the servants have seen her in the last hour, either.”

“Well, there’s nothing we can do about it now,” he answered as she straightened his crown. “They’re here.”

Soldiers dressed in the colors of Nemeth rode into the courtyard. One of them pronounced, “Queen Mithian of Nemeth and her consort, Prince Leon, Lord of Gedref!”

Guinevere and Arthur stepped forward, wreathed in smiles, as Mithian and Leon dismounted. Despite the formality of the herald, they all exchanged hugs.

“Of course you remember our son,” Leon said, ushering forward a tall, handsome boy of fourteen. 

“Of course!” Gwen exclaimed, extending her hand. Prince Steffan bent and kissed it courteously. “My _goodness_ , you’ve grown since I saw you last!”

“Percival!” Leon exclaimed, seeing his old friend approaching. They shook hands, all smiles. “And can this _possibly_ be little Ellie?” he added, reaching up and tapping her cheek. Ellie, a rosy-cheeked five-year-old with golden curls giggled from her high perch on her father’s shoulders. “And Lily,” he added, turning to Percival’s wife and kissing her cheek. Lily held their six-month-old daughter, who was (mercifully) fast asleep through all the ruckus. Mithian and Lily exchanged greetings, and Leon turned back to Ellie. “Why, the last time I saw you, you were smaller than your little sister! You were no bigger than my little finger!”

Ellie giggled again. “You should see Laine! Daddy,” she added, “where _is_ Laine?”

“I don’t know, Sweetie,” Percival said, bouncing her slightly. “Ask your uncle.”

“Uncle Gwaine!” Ellie called over. “Where’s Laine?”

“King Gaheris and Queen Ynyra of Essetir,” a herald announced, cutting off Gwaine before he could answer.

The monarchs of Albion exchanged greetings, and Gaheris introduced his fifteen-year-old son, Prince Gildas. “And where are my godsons?” Gaheris asked with a smile.

Elyan and Tirion stepped forward, all smiles. “Gaius! Gaheris!” Elyan called. His twin sons, eight years old, ran over when they saw their godfather holding presents. They took them with thanks, which turned into loud whoops when they discovered he had given them blunt practice swords. They immediately fell to fencing with them.

Queen Ynyra beckoned Elyan and Tirion’s lovely fourteen-year-old daughter forward and also handed her a present: a beautifully embroidered shawl. “And something for Guenloie as well,” she said.

Guena curtsied and thanked her prettily, her eyes shining at the beautiful gift, which she immediately wrapped around her shoulders.

“Ah! Merlin,” Gaheris said, clasping his ally’s arm. “It’s good to see you. And Lady Sifa.” 

“This is our daughter, Nyneve,” Sifa said, ushering forward their ten-year-old daughter. Nyneve had her mother’s delicate beauty, with pale strawberry-blonde hair, gray eyes, and a light dusting of freckles on her father’s fair skin. She curtsied shyly. “Today is her tenth birthday.”

“Happy birthday, Nyneve!” Ynyra said, and Sifa ducked her head and blushed, smiling beautifully.

“And my mother, Hunith,” Merlin added. Hunith, her hair still brown and her eyes still bright, curtsied.

“Lady Hunith is a mother to us all,” Arthur said, giving her an affectionate smile. “Our Court Physician, of course, you know,” he added, “and Sir Gwaine.”

“Of course.” Gaheris and Ynyra nodded to Anna and Gwaine. 

“We _would_ like to introduce our son to you,” Gwaine said, “but unfortunately… we don’t know where he is.”

“Here, Father,” a voice spoke up. The tone was rueful.

Everyone turned to see a girl and boy, twelve and fourteen, approaching across the courtyard. The girl’s face was specked with mud, her gown absolutely brown. The boy was less muddy, but his boots and arms were generously spattered.

“What happened?” Gwen asked, then stopped herself. “Wait, I don’t want to know.”

“It was my fault,” the girl said. “Laine told me not to. I didn’t listen.” She gave her friend a mischievous smile. “I never do.”

“No. And then poor Laine has to get you out of trouble—again.” King Gaheris and Queen Ynyra, may I introduce our scapegrace daughter, Aureliana.”

The princess dropped an awkward curtsy. There was a strong resemblance between her, her mother, and Guena: Aureliana had slightly dusky skin and curling brown hair with threads of gold. If she hadn’t been covered in mud, she would have been rather pretty. As it was, her state only served to emphasize by contrast her older cousin Guena’s superior beauty and neatness.

“And Sir Gwaine and Lady Anwen’s son, Gingalaine,” Arthur continued.

Laine gave a bow every bit as polished as Prince Steffan’s. “He’ll break hearts someday,” Ynyra murmured to Anna.

She laughed. “Yes, he inherited his father’s looks,” she agreed.

“And his mother’s sense of responsibility,” Gwaine grinned.

“For which we are all thankful,” Arthur concluded. He looked over at his daughter. “Daily.” 

“Sir Ifor, Lord of Gwalchmei and Captain of the army of Camlann, and Lady Florence,” the herald announced, and Gwaine and Anna stepped forward to greet their sister and brother-in-law.

More royal guests began to pour into the courtyard. Queen Annis, too old now to travel so far, had sent her daughter and heir, Princess Sioned. Lady Elena and her husband, Lord Nentres of Garlot and Gawant, arrived soon after. By this time it was beginning to grow dark, and everyone moved inside for the banquet.

“Friends! Kinsmen!” Arthur said, standing up at the head table. The merry conversations in the Hall fell silent. “Fifteen years ago, Albion was threatened with destruction. Foreign invaders swarmed our shores like locusts, threatening to overwhelm us. Many of our children do not know and cannot understand the terror that hung over us, the desperation of our position. But we won the day at Badon Hill: a victory that could only come through unity, through brotherhood. We fought, not for our petty and personal gain, but for the love of Albion. As a father,” he said, smiling down the table at Aureliana, now presentable again, “I pray that my daughter may never know such a desperate time. But I promise myself every day that I will teach her the importance of peace and love, that if such a thing ever happens again—she will know how to combat it. Our children are the future of Albion.” He raised his cup. “In commemoration of our fallen comrades—and to our children.”

The Kings and Queens of Albion raised their cups, and the feast began.

It was a very merry affair, and the feast was quickly followed by dancing. The guests began to disperse themselves around the Hall, gathering in small groups to chat. As per tradition, Gwaine danced the first dance with Anna, and the second with Sir Raynelle, who led. Lily was watching Ellie, who was romping with Gaius and Gaheris, and Percival sat nearby, holding his tiny daughter gently in his giant arms and chatting with Elyan and Leon. Guena, who found her tomboyish cousin rather annoying, had been alternately talking with Prince Steffan and keeping an eye on her rambunctious little brothers. Aureliana, completely unbothered by this, was hatching some sort of plot nearby, with Nyneve and Laine as an audience. Laine argued with her earnestly, then managed to distract her by leading her over to Sir Raynelle. This was a wise move—Aureliana idolized Raynelle almost more than she did her father. Nyneve wandered back over to where her parents were sitting, and took up a spot beside her father’s chair, her arms wrapped around his neck and his arm about her waist as he chatted with Arthur and Gaheris.

Sifa smiled at them both tenderly from a short distance away, and Gwen followed her gaze. “I wish Aureliana and Nyneve were better friends,” the Queen commented softly. “But I’m afraid Liana’s rowdiness and Nyneve’s shyness don’t predispose them to one another’s company.”

Arthur laughed loudly at one of Merlin’s comments, drawing the ladies’ attention. Sifa smiled. “Some friendship takes time to blossom,” she answered. “I’m sure they’ll come around someday.”

“Oh, look!” Gwen exclaimed. “Elidir is here!” The two ladies moved to join Arthur and Merlin as Mordred’s messenger advanced. Guinevere herself had commissioned Elidir to return Morgana’s healing bracelet to her at the Isle of Avalon a few months after the Battle of Badon Hill, and Mordred had employed him as a messenger to Camelot ever since. Mordred and Kara visited their friends and liege at Camelot once every year or so, and communicated with them by letter at other times. Arthur had not heard direct word from Morgana since they had parted on the battlefield fifteen years ago, though Mordred occasionally told him how she was doing.

“Ah! News from our good friend Mordred,” Arthur said as Elidir approached.

“Not Mordred, my lord,” Elidir answered significantly. “This letter comes from the Lady Morgana.”

They all stared at him as he held out the letter, sealed with green wax. Arthur took it from him and stared at the words written on the front.

“It’s too Nyneve,” he said blankly. 

“What?” Merlin stood and took it from him, staring at the flowing letters. His daughter watched him in puzzlement.

Merlin broke open the seal. “To the next Dragonlord,” he read slowly, “on the occasion of her tenth birthday.” He reached in and pulled out a simple necklace: a small piece of highly-polished white wood, carved in the likeness of a dragon and hung on a narrow leather thong. “Aithusa,” he murmured.

“What?”

He looked up. “It’s a protection charm,” he explained to Arthur. “It’s carved from the wood of one of the sacred trees of Avalon.” And it was in the shape of Aithusa—the white dragon, the symbol of innocence and of peace. Kilgarrah had belonged to the old years of strife, of hatred, of loss. Aithusa, too young to have inherited his prejudices, his hatreds, was as innocent as Nyneve, as Aureliana—as all their children. The hope of the future.

“Papa, may I write back to her?” Nyneve asked.

Merlin and Arthur exchanged looks, and Arthur nodded almost imperceptibly.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Merlin answered.

“Is it possible it’s cursed?” Gaheris asked cautiously, and Merlin smiled.

“No,” he said, hanging the pendant around his daughter’s neck. “The only magic in this is love.”

**The End.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everybody who stuck with this story. It is almost a hundred thousand words long!—certainly the single longest piece I’ve ever written. It was a blast to write, and I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it.
> 
> A couple of notes: According to my calculations, Horsa and Hengist were born in approx. the year 427. They were given the isle of Thanet by Vortigern in 447. Arthur would then have been born in 464. According to Bede, the Battle of Badon took place in 491—in my story, Horsa would have been 64 and Arthur 27. Looking into the future according to my headcannon: According to the Annales Cambriae, the Battle of Camlann was in 537, when my Arthur would have been 73. The legend/history states that in the Battle of Badon the Britons kicked ass so hard that there was about a 70 year gap between attested Saxon leaders in Britain—they left Albion alone until well after Arthur was dead! Some early sources on the Battle of Camlann, such as the Welsh Triads and the Annales Cambriae, seem to imply that Medraut (Mordred) fought WITH Arthur instead of against him, and was killed in the same battle with him. So I choose to believe that Arthur and Gwen lived a good, long life together, and on his death at the Battle of Camlann, Merlin took the wounded Arthur to the Isle of Avalon, where Morgana put them both into a long enchanted sleep until Britain would need them again. Then Aureliana took her place as Queen of Camelot and Nyneve as the next Dragonlord. May their rule be long and prosperous.


End file.
